Xavier's throat tightened, and a lump formed, constricting his breath as he watched Cathleen cradle the porcelain doll. She rocked it back and forth with a vacant stare, her fingers gently stroking the smooth surface of its face.
The doll's glassy eyes gleamed in the dim light of their opulent bedroom, casting an eerie glow that matched the emptiness in Cathleen's gaze. It was a grotesque mimicry of the daughter they had lost. Each night since Bella's death, Cathleen has clung to the eerie surrogate, her grief manifesting in this haunting ritual.
Xavier wanted to reach out and shatter the illusion, to tell Cathleen the grim reality of that fateful day. But fear held him back-fear of losing his only lead on the assassin who had taken their daughter from them. And so he remained silent, watching quietly as his wife retreated further into her delusional world. This has been happening since Bella's death, and surprisingly, during the day, Cathleen doesn't even remember what she was doing at night.
The silence shattered as the front door swung open, and Olivia strutted in, a living, breathing infant cradled in her arms. Her presence was like a slap to Xavier's psyche, an abrasive reminder of the tangled web he weaved, a web that now seemed poised to entangle them all.
Cathleen's voice sliced through the tension like a blade wrapped in velvet. "Well, that didn't take long. Enjoy the reunion, Mr. Knight." Her gaze held a challenge, a taunt, as she stood from the breakfast table draped in sunlight. Xavier knew Cathleen was slowly dying inside, but he also knew that his wife would never look defeated in front of her enemies.
Xavier reached out, his fingers curling around her wrist with a possessiveness that belied his cold exterior. She glared at his touch, revulsion etched into the fine lines of her face. She assessed him like one might a particularly distasteful insect under a microscope.
"Cat, I haven't seen you eating anything since Bella..." His voice faltered the name of their deceased child a tangible weight in the air between them.
"Since my daughter died, say it," Cathleen spat, yanking her hand away with such force that it sent a jolt up Xavier's arm.
"Cat, eat something; you are losing weight," he pressed, his concern a rare crack in his facade of indifference.
"Since when did Mr. Knight care about me?" Her whisper was venomous-a caustic intimacy that made him flinch even as he remained seated, an unmovable titan at the head of the family table.
"I am just a paper wife. My daughter died, and you didn't seek my approval on anything. So stop acting like you care.." Her words were acid, burning through the pretense of their marriage, leaving nothing but the raw, festering truth exposed.
Xavier watched her, his jaw clenched, as the battle lines were drawn in the quiet hum of the morning. He realized then that Cathleen was no doll to be played with, no silent, compliant figure in his grand design. She was fire and steel, and he had sorely underestimated her. At that moment, amidst the wreckage of their shared loss and his own gnawing guilt, Xavier knew that she was a formidable adversary in her own right-a woman who wielded her sharp tongue like a weapon and who would not be easily subdued or dismissed.
Xavier's grip tightened on the back of the chair, the wood creaking a sharp protest. "I want you to be here; at least stay," he demanded, his voice low and edged with an authority that had commanded boardrooms and bent wills.
Cathleen's eyes flicked to his face, reading the lines of sincerity etched there. She knew that tone. It was the one he used when brokering deals, not the cold indifference she'd grown accustomed to. With a silent exhale, she resumed her seat, her posture regal and unyielding.
The moment was shattered by the click of high heels against the marble floor. Olivia sauntered in, cradling a baby with all the care of a model on a runway. "Oh, Xavier, baby, are you not going to welcome your lively son?" Her voice dripped with honeyed poison, each syllable crafted to cut into Cathleen's heart.
But Cathleen remained stone-faced, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the walls of their palatial home. Her silence was a fortress, impenetrable and cold.
Before Xavier could muster a response, a frantic Caleb burst through the door, his usual composure lost to panic. "Sir, someone just bought Daniel's shares; I promise he wanted to sell the shares to us; we were offering him a bigger price; I don't know why he sold it to this person," he blurted out, sweat beading on his forehead like tiny pearls of distress.
"Who is the new person?" Xavier's voice was like ice, his patience thinning.
Caleb gulped, meeting his boss's piercing gaze. "The person goes by the name The Eye of The Ocean."
A shiver of recognition passed through Xavier. Why would anyone adopt the alias of an infamous art piece? However, before he could delve deeper into that mystery, Cathleen stood, her chair scraping back with deliberate slowness.
"Well, I'm getting late for work. Have a lovely day, Mr. Knight." Her smile was enigmatic, a cryptic curve of lips that didn't reach her eyes. There was something behind it, a secret amusement that danced in her gaze, mocking him with its brightness.
As she walked away, her heels clicking a steady rhythm against the stone. Xavier watched the sway of her hips, each step a testament to her untamed spirit. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Cathleen was playing a game he hadn't even been aware had begun. And somehow, he knew she was winning.
Xavier's gaze lingered on the retreating figure of his wife, a rare, genuine smile gracing her lips-a stark contrast to the lingering sorrow that had become her shadow. 'The Eye of The Ocean,' he mused silently, tasting the title on his tongue as if it were a clue left deliberately for him to unravel.
"Sir?" Caleb's voice cut through the thickening air, tentative and laced with confusion. "Do you want me to find out who the person is?"
Xavier turned, his eyes alight with a spark of mischief previously dampened by the weight of loss and corporate battles. "Caleb, there is no need to search for who the person is. I already know who it is." His laugh was low, resonating with an edge of wicked triumph.
"Who is it, boss?" Caleb leaned in, his curiosity piqued, and the lines of worry etching his forehead relaxed as he sensed Xavier's amusement.
"Let's just say someone interesting," Xavier drawled nonchalantly, plucking a ripe strawberry from the bowl on the breakfast table and savoring its sweetness, a stark contrast to the bitterness of the situation at hand.
"Hello, are you not going to welcome me home?" Olivia's voice sliced through the room, shrill and demanding attention as she framed herself within the doorway, her silhouette a stark interruption to the domestic scene.
Xavier didn't flinch. His cold stare fixed on Olivia, a woman whose ambition was as transparent as the glass she stood behind. "Caleb, return Miss Williams from wherever she came from. This is mine and my wife's house."
Olivia's mouth fell open, a gasp lost amidst the sudden tension. She'd expected a different reception-the warmth of a lover, the embrace of a victor claiming his prize. But here, in Xavier Knight's domain, even the walls seemed to reject her presence.
"Excuse me?" Her voice cracked, disbelief and anger vying for dominance.
"Did I stutter?" Xavier's tone was sharp, a blade slicing through the charade. He rose from his seat, towering over the space between them, every inch the imposing figure that rumors and whispers painted him to be.
"Out," he commanded the single word echoing with finality, leaving no room for argument or delay.
Caleb hesitated, torn between loyalty and the fear of crossing paths with a man known for his ruthlessness. Yet, in one swift motion, he escorted Olivia away, her protests fading into the background like the last notes of a discordant symphony.
Silence reclaimed the room, heavy with unspoken words and the aftershocks of confrontation. Xavier stood alone, the taste of strawberries a fleeting reminder that the game had only just begun.