Chapter 119 Stop Pretending
Rowan
“That’s not what I asked,” he says.
“It is,” I reply.
A beat. Marcus’s jaw tightens slightly. “I’m asking,” he says more clearly now, “if you’re thinking straight.”
I almost smile. “Do I look like I’m not?”
“You look like you’re involved.”
There’s a difference. And we both know it.
I tilt my head slightly. “Careful,” I say quietly.
Marcus exhales through his nose. Not backing down. Never has. “You’ve always kept things separate,” he says. “Business. Power. Personal.” His eyes flick briefly toward the stairs. “This isn’t separate.”
No. It’s not. I don’t deny it.
“That doesn’t make it wrong.”
“It makes it dangerous.”
Everything about this is dangerous. I take another step closer. Now we’re even.
“You think I don’t know that?” I ask.
His gaze holds mine. “I think,” Marcus says slowly, “that you don’t care.”
That... That almost earns him something.
I let out a quiet breath. Then I say it. Plain. Simple. “I don’t.”
Silence. Upstairs, something drops. Camille swears under her breath. Theo says something back. Life continues.
Marcus studies me harder now. “That’s not how this works,” he says.
“It is for me.”
“You’re going to burn everything down over this.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
There’s no hesitation in my voice. No doubt. No second guessing.
Because the truth is... I already have.
Marcus’s expression shifts slightly. Not surprise. Recognition. “You’ve changed,” he says.
“No.” I hold his gaze. “I just stopped pretending.”
A beat. His eyes narrow slightly. “She must be something,” he says.
That almost makes me laugh. I glance toward the stairs for half a second. Just enough. Then back to him.
“She is.” Simple. Final.
Marcus exhales slowly. Runs a hand over his jaw. Thinking. Recalculating.
“This complicates things,” he says.
“Good,” I reply.
His brow lifts slightly.
“Because I don’t need this to be easy,” I add. “I need it to be finished.”
The guard shifts behind us, chains rattling softly. Marcus glances back at him. Then returns his attention to me. “You’re going to make this harder than it has to be.”
“I already did.”
Another pause. Then Marcus nods once. Like he’s accepting something he doesn’t like.
“Alright,” he says.
Not agreement. Not approval. Just… acknowledgment.
Upstairs, footsteps start moving again. Faster this time. Closer. They’re coming back down.
Good. Because we’re done talking.
Theo comes down first, one hand gripping the railing, the other holding his phone like he’s still mid-task. Camille follows close behind him, a bag slung over her shoulder, her eyes darting between Marcus and me like she can feel the tension still sitting heavy in the room.
Devin moves last, calm as ever, already slipping his phone into his pocket as he scans everything one more time.
And then... Violet. She steps into view, and for half a second, everything else in the room just… fades.
She’s carrying two bags. Not one. Two. One slung over her shoulder. The other held in her hand.
I don’t ask. I don’t need to. Cute. She packed a bag for me as well.
I cross the space between us before she even makes it to the bottom of the stairs, taking both bags from her without a word.
“Ready?” I ask.
She nods once. Good.
I turn slightly, my attention shifting back to Marcus. “Call me if anything else comes up,” I tell him. “I’m taking my fiancée shopping,” I say flatly. “She needs new clothes.” A beat. “And her nails done.”
Marcus snorts. Not subtle. Not quiet. “That’s bullshit,” he says.
The room stills. Slowly. Deliberately.
My grip tightens just slightly on the bags in my hand.
Marcus tilts his head toward Violet, his gaze dragging over her in a way that immediately sets something sharp off in my chest. “She doesn’t look like the type,” he continues. “More like she shops clearance racks and calls it a win. I highly doubt she even knows what nail polish is.”
Silence. Complete.
Theo freezes. Camille’s mouth parts slightly. Devin goes very, very still.
Violet... I don’t look at her. Not yet. Because right now, I’m looking at him.
Slowly, I set the bags down. Then I step forward. Once. Twice. Close enough.
“Say that again,” I tell him quietly.
Marcus doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. But he knows. He crossed something.
“I’m just saying—”
“You don’t say anything about her,” I cut in. My voice doesn’t raise. It doesn’t need to. It drops. Cold. Sharp. Final.
“The next time you open your mouth about Violet,” I continue, stepping even closer, “I’ll kill you... And I’ll make it look like suicide.” Another step. “And no one will fucking care.”
Silence crashes back into the room. Heavy. Suffocating. Marcus holds my gaze. Unblinking. For a second, I wonder if he’s going to push it. He doesn’t. Good. Because I’m not in the mood to stop myself today. I turn away first. Because I’m done.
“Let’s go,” I say.
I don’t wait. I pick the bags back up, then reach for Violet, my hand settling at her back, guiding her toward the door. Not gentle. Not rough. Possessive. She moves with me. No hesitation.
Theo is already heading out, opening the door. Devin follows. Camille lingers for half a second before hurrying after us.
We step outside into the cold air, the black SUV already waiting. Devin slides into the driver’s seat. Theo takes shotgun. I open the back door. Guide Violet in first. Camille climbs in beside her. Then I follow.
The door shuts. The engine starts. And just like that, we’re moving.
The house disappears behind us. Silence fills the car. Not comfortable. Not awkward. Just… heavy.
Camille shifts beside Violet, glancing at me like she’s trying to decide if she should say something. She does anyway. “You’d really do that?” she asks.
Her voice is quieter now. Careful.
I look at her. Direct. Unblinking. “Yes.”
No hesitation. No humor. No softness.
“If anyone disrespects my wife,” I continue, my voice calm, steady, absolute, “I’ll kill them. End of story.”