Chapter 160

Chapter 160
Rhett's POV

By ten o'clock, the living room remained dark except for the faint glow from outside. I reached for another bottle of wine, accidentally knocking over several empties that clinked together in protest. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke and the sour smell of alcohol.

I leaned back against the sofa, eyes closed, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from my fingers. The coffee table held a battlefield of empty wine bottles and an ashtray overflowing with butts.

The heaviness in my chest wouldn't subside no matter how much I drank. I couldn't understand how Sheryl and I had ended up here. Everything had been going well—better than well. I was close to eliminating all our hidden enemies, ensuring we could live without constant danger.

I'd even planned where to give her a proper wedding ceremony, where to take her for our honeymoon. And now she was determined to divorce me.

After a long moment, I opened my eyes, staring into the darkness. I drained my last glass of wine, stubbed out my cigarette, and rose unsteadily to my feet. The room swayed slightly as I made my way toward the stairs.

Sheryl's POV

After going upstairs, I took a shower and locked myself in the bedroom as usual. My body felt weak, still recovering from the hospital stay. I'd felt light-headed even there, and now after the shower, exhaustion pulled at me like gravity.

I fell asleep almost immediately after getting into bed. I'm not sure how long I'd been out when the sound of the lock turning pulled me from sleep.

Before I could reach for the light, a tall shadow entered the room. The overwhelming smell of cigarettes and alcohol preceded him, mixed with that distinctive scent that was uniquely his—cool and domineering.

"Rh—mmph!"

I couldn't even get his name out before his mouth covered mine. His grip on my wrists was iron, his kiss invasive and demanding. He left no room for refusal, claiming what he wanted with brutal efficiency.

I had little strength to fight back. I tried turning my head away, but he grabbed my jaw with one hand, forcing me to face him. When I refused to open my mouth, he applied pressure until I had no choice.

My breathing grew ragged as tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I hated this. Hated how Rhett thought he could take whatever he wanted.

When my struggles proved useless against his strength, I stopped resisting. Let him take what he wanted. My submission seemed to calm him, and he paused.

His large frame pressed me into the mattress, his face buried against my shoulder. His breathing was heavy and rough, his hot breath tickling my ear.

"Sheryl..." His voice was sandpaper-rough, barely recognizable. "Today's my birthday. Is this divorce your gift to me?"

My body stiffened beneath him. The fingers he held trembled involuntarily.

My God. I'd nearly forgotten—today was Rhett's twenty-seventh birthday.

He never celebrated his birthday, and I'd never given him presents for it. I'd thought this year might be different.

But what did it matter now?

His raspy voice continued in my ear, with something that sounded almost like a choked sob. His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke.

"What do I need to do for you to forgive me? Tell me. Please tell me... Teach me..."

In the darkness, I bit my lip as tears silently rolled down my cheeks, dampening the pillow beneath my head.

"Rhett," I finally choked out. "You've done everything I care about in the worst possible way. How am I supposed to teach you how to earn forgiveness?"

"What can we do at this point?" Tears continued falling as I spoke. "You said you didn't care for Cherisse, but you kept running to her, putting her first. You claimed there was nothing between you, but they all say that you've been in love for years."

"Four years, Rhett. How could I not care about that?"

"You said you didn't want children to protect me. You could have told me that, could have discussed it with me, but you didn't. You make every decision on your own and then inform me afterward, claiming it's for my own good while showing me no respect."

My voice dropped to a whisper. "You keep saying you're doing what's best for me. Do I look happy? Are we better for it?"

"Rhett, I can handle hardship with you, but I can't accept lies and secrets."

I took a deep breath, feeling more tears escape. "You were right when you said someone like me isn't worth much. So please, let's just divorce. Set us both free, okay?"

I spoke for a long time in the darkness, saying everything I'd been holding inside. He didn't respond, and I wasn't sure he was even listening.

The pressure on my wrists gradually eased. I shifted slightly, and he released me completely.

But his breathing remained hot and heavy, his body a dead weight on top of mine, so heavy I could barely breathe.

"Rhett?"

I pushed at him gently, hearing only the steady rhythm of his breathing in response.

I turned my head to look at him and felt my headache intensify.

He was asleep.

Fucking hell, he'd fallen asleep!

The man breathed in the scent of my body like he was starving for it, sleeping peacefully while I poured my heart out.

I wiped the tears from my face, cursing myself for wasting emotional energy on a drunk man.

I wiggled out from under him, standing breathless beside the bed.

In the faint moonlight, I could make out his features as he lay face-down, half his handsome face buried in the pillow, sleeping deeply.

I started to leave, took two steps toward the door, then turned back. I threw the blanket over him—perhaps more forcefully than necessary—before finally leaving the bedroom.

Rhett's POV

The next morning, I woke in the same position I'd fallen asleep, my face pressed into a pillow that smelled of her perfume. For one disoriented moment between sleep and wakefulness, I thought things were normal.

Then I opened my eyes fully, recognizing the familiar bedding. I jerked upright—the large bed empty except for me.

My head throbbed, a dull pain pulsing at my temples. I closed my eyes, trying to remember what had happened. I recalled Sheryl presenting me with divorce papers, then going upstairs. I'd stayed downstairs drinking, growing increasingly frustrated, increasingly desperate for her.

I wanted her smile, her voice, the way she pouted when teasing me. I wanted to kiss her, hold her, pull her against me until we became one person.

The intensity of those feelings had grown and grown until...

I slapped my forehead hard, unable to remember anything after that. How had I ended up in this bedroom, in this bed? I had no recollection whatsoever.

I massaged my temples, scanning the bright bedroom for any sign of Sheryl. Finding none, panic flashed through me, and I hurriedly got out of bed and headed downstairs.