A bitter laugh scraped from my throat. “Cares for me? By crawling into my husband’s bed? By parading herself in front of me?”
His eyes iced over. “Be careful what you accuse her of. You have no proof. Until you do, you’ll treat her with respect.”
Something inside me snapped. Proof. That was her shield. That was all he needed to keep me silent.
I stepped closer, my voice low and steady. “If you think I’ll bow to her forever, you’re wrong. One day you’ll see who she really is. And when you do, I won’t be here waiting.”
For a flicker of a moment, surprise crossed his face. Then it hardened into disdain. He brushed past me, his shoulder knocking mine as though I were nothing more than furniture in his way.
From down the hall, Claire’s voice drifted soft and syrupy. “Matthew? Come to bed. You’ve done enough tonight.”
I stood rooted in the empty living room, my cheek still burning, my pride in tatters.
And for the first time, a thought I had never allowed whispered through me, cold and clear:
If this marriage was going to be my grave, then I would be the one to bury it.