Chapter 104 CHAPTER 104
The Knife
The house was quiet, bathed in the soft hush that only night could bring.
A pale moon hung outside the window, spilling silver across the floor of the master bedroom, tracing soft light over the sheets, over the still figure lying beneath them.
Tessa slept on her side, her hand resting over the gentle curve of her flat stomach. Her breathing was steady, lips slightly parted, strands of her hair falling loose across her face. The air smelled faintly of lavender and rain.
The door opened soundlessly.
Ares stepped in. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose pajama pants, his body catching the low light with that quiet strength that came so naturally to him. His gaze softened as it found her. For a moment, he just stood there, watching her sleep, his expression caught somewhere between wonder and guilt.
He crossed the room slowly and knelt beside the bed.
Tessa stirred. Her eyes blinked open, slow, unfocused. “Ares?” Her voice was small, heavy with sleep.
He smiled a little, brushing a hand through her hair. “Hey, love. Did I wake you?”
She shook her head faintly. “No… I was just dreaming.”
“Good dreams, I hope?”
She smiled back, tired but tender. “You were in them. So yes.”
Ares chuckled softly. “Then I must be doing something right.”
He reached for her foot, gently lifting it into his hands. “You’ve been walking too much again. I told you to take it easy.”
“I’m pregnant, not sick,” she teased.
“Still.” He began to knead her foot slowly, carefully, his thumbs pressing into the arch, tracing small circles the way the doctor had shown him. “You’re carrying my child, Tess. Four weeks gone already.”
She laughed quietly. “Bossy as always. But I need to work, Ares. If not I’ll be flat ass broke.”
He lifted his head, grinning. “Not on my watch.”
Tessa’s eyes softened. “Thank you.”
For a while, there was only silence, the soft rhythm of his fingers, the slow rise and fall of her breathing, the faint hum of the city outside. He switched to her other foot, repeating the same slow motion, patient and gentle.
“Feels good?” he murmured.
“Mm-hmm.” She sighed, her voice melting into the night. “You’re getting good at this.”
“Learning,” he said. “Anything for my queen.”
Tessa smiled at the word. “Your queen, huh?”
He nodded. “Always.”
She reached for him then, her hand finding his cheek. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing for a heartbeat before he pressed a kiss into her palm. It was soft, unhurried, something real, something fragile.
“You should rest,” he whispered.
“So should you,” she replied, tugging him gently toward her.
Ares hesitated, just for a second. Then he gave in, sliding beside her on the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight. He pulled her close, her back against his chest, his arm wrapping around her waist.
“Better?” he asked quietly.
Tessa nodded. “Much.”
He kissed the side of her neck. “You and this little one are my whole world now, you know that?”
Her lips curved faintly. “Say that again.”
He smiled. “You’re my world, Tessa Langford. Both of you.”
Her laughter was low and sleepy. “You always know what to say. I am not a Langford anyway.”
“Soon you will and I mean every word.”
The wind brushed softly against the glass. Somewhere in the distance, a car passed, its lights flashing briefly across the curtains before fading away.
And in that gentle quiet, the world seemed still.
But not for everyone.
From the doorway, someone was watching.
Chloe stood there, motionless, her hand gripping the doorframe. Her breath came fast and shallow, her chest rising and falling beneath the thin white shirt she wore.
Her eyes were fixed on Tessa’s head resting against Ares’ chest, on his hand curved protectively over her stomach. The sight burned through her, slow and searing, like acid through glass.
She didn’t blink. She didn’t move.
Only her jaw tightened, and her fingers trembled slightly as she held the edge of the door.
Inside the room, Ares whispered something that made Tessa laugh softly. The sound was small, sweet, warm, it landed like a hammer against Chloe’s chest.
She turned away suddenly. Her breath caught. Her throat closed up. The air felt too thin.
She walked fast down the hallway, her bare feet silent against the marble floor. Her hands were shaking now, shaking so badly that she pressed one against her chest to steady herself.
Her reflection followed her in the windows as she passed, pale, furious, hollow eyed.
By the time she reached the kitchen, her heartbeat was roaring in her ears.
The lights were low, the room dim except for the glow from the refrigerator. The hum of the appliances filled the silence.
She opened the drawer.
Her hands moved without thought, like they already knew where to go.
And then she saw it, the silver glint under the kitchen light.
She picked the knife up slowly.
Her fingers closed around the handle, tight enough to make her knuckles pale. The cool metal felt alive in her grip, breathing with her, pulsing with her heartbeat.
Her reflection stared back at her from the steel, distorted and unfamiliar.
Her lips parted. Her breath came out in a shaky whisper. “She took him from me. Always take them away from me.”
The words were quiet, almost soundless, but they filled the kitchen all the same.
“She took everything.”
Her eyes flashed. The tears that had gathered there didn’t fall, they burned instead, turning sharp, hard.
Her pulse pounded louder now, faster. Her hand shook once, then stilled.
“She can’t have him,” she breathed. “Not her. Not her.”
The knife trembled in her hand.
And somewhere upstairs, the faint sound of Tessa’s laughter drifted down again, soft, happy, unaware.
Chloe’s grip tightened.
Her chest rose and fell, every breath rougher than the last.
Her voice was a whisper now, breaking through clenched teeth. “If I can’t have him… no one will.”
She lifted the knife slightly, staring at the reflection of her own eyes in the blade, wild, red, glistening.
The refrigerator light blinked once as if the power faltered.
And in that flicker, Chloe’s shadow stretched long across the tiles, knife glinting like a promise.
The wind picked up. A storm was building, slow, quiet, inevitable.
The house remained silent, unaware of what was coming.
Chloe took a step forward, her breath shuddering, her mind gone somewhere far past reason.
“She has to go.”