Chapter 4 #4
Chapter 4
~ Shailyn ~
I winced, trying to twist out of his grip, but his fingers dug deeper into my shoulders. He was so much stronger than me.
"Jesus Christ, Shailyn!" He released me suddenly, running his hands through his hair. "Is this because of what happened at the office?"
‘What happened at the office.’
As if it was just some minor inconvenience. As if he hadn't continued fucking that secretary even after I'd walked in. That was what shocked me most — not the cheating itself, I was used to that. But the fact that he hadn't even stopped. Hadn't even lost interest like before.
He truly didn't care anymore.
I had to be crazy. I had to ask for the impossible.
"I'm not developing anything for you, Dante."
He stared at me like I'd grown a second head. Like he couldn't comprehend that I, the pathetic, doormat Shailyn — would dare speak to him this way.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to keep going. To do the thing I'd been too terrified to do for years. The thing I knew had to be done.
Marriage was supposed to make both people happy. But ours? I'd only been happy in the beginning, during that one perfect year when Dante love-bombed me into believing I mattered. After that, he'd become cold.
It was time to end it.
"I want a divorce, Dante."
The words hung in the air between us.
For a moment, everything was still.
Then Dante grabbed the dressing table and hurled it across the room.
It crashed into the wall, exploding in a shower of glass and cosmetics and broken wood. The sound was deafening. I was sure the entire family downstairs heard it.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," he said, his voice deadly quiet.
But I'd come too far to stop now. Something had shifted inside me today, something fundamental. Each time I stood up for myself, it got easier. Like confidence was a muscle I'd finally started exercising.
"You heard it," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "But if you didn't, I'll say it again. I'm divorcing you, Dante."
The look he gave me then... I couldn't comprehend it.
"What has gotten into you, Shailyn?"
He moved toward me, and this time I tried to run. But he was faster.
His hands closed around my throat.
I gasped, my fingers clawing at his wrists as he squeezed. Spots danced across my vision. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.
‘This is it. This is how I die.’
All that confidence, all those bold moves, they were going to be the end of me.
No one would save me. Tyler was downstairs, on his wheelchair and unable to climb the stairs to save me. Cynthia and Monica hated me. The butler wouldn't dare intervene.
I was alone.
The room started to fade, darkness creeping in from the edges. My mother's face flashed through my mind.
The letter.
Oh God, the letter. She'd spent almost year writing it, and I was going to die without reading it. I was going to die before my mother who'd been bedridden since my birth.
Creator, please. Give me a second chance.
My lungs burned. My vision went black.
Then suddenly…air.
Dante's hands were gone. I collapsed to the floor, gasping and choking, my throat on fire.
Through my blurred vision, I saw Dante hit the ground beside me.
And Dwayne was now over him.
His fist slammed into Dante's face once. Twice. Three times.
"Stop!" I tried to scream, but my voice came out as a rasp.
He didn't stop. His fists were relentless, brutal. Blood splattered across the floor, across his knuckles, across Dante's face.
He was going to kill him.
I wanted to move, to stop him, but my body wouldn't cooperate. I just lay there, gasping for air, hating myself for being so useless.
Footsteps thundered up the stairs. The butler burst through the door, followed by Monica and Cynthia.
"Stop him!" Cynthia shrieked.
It took all three of them to pull Dwayne off. Even then, he fought against them, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wild with rage.
"You motherfucker!" he snarled, trying to lunge at Dante again.
Mr. Harvey held him back, his weathered face grim.
Dante lay on the floor, blood pouring from his nose, his mouth. Then, impossibly, he started laughing.
The sound was unhinged, manic.
Dante staggered to his feet, swaying slightly, and turned to me. Blood dripped down his face, but he was smiling.
"Get up," he said. "We're going home."
"So you can kill her there?" Dwayne's voice was steel. "I don't think so."
He moved forward, positioning himself between Dante and me.
I'd never felt so protected in my life.
Dante scoffed, "Dwayne. After five years of disappearing, you come back here to steal from me? Not just the company, but what… my wife too?" He laughed again, bitter and cruel. "Why do you care what I do with my wife? Mind your fucking business!"
The words seemed to cut deep. Dwayne was livid, then he turned to me with those dark eyes that had unnerved me at the ginseng shop, the ones that had watched me all through dinner.
"Would you come with me?" he asked quietly. "Or do you want him to kill you?"