"Apologize to him. Now!"
Marina glared at me, the words grinding through her teeth.
"Daddy, say sorry to Uncle Tristan! Hurry!"
"Mommy says Uncle Tristan is a good person and you're the bad guy!"
I laughed. So this was how Marina was raising our son.
Before I could get a word out, Marina signaled the bodyguards behind her. They seized me and forced me to the ground.
She grabbed the back of my head and slammed my face into Tristan's body. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Uncle Tristan, Mommy punished Daddy. Does it still hurt?" Four-year-old Nathan saw the blood running down my forehead and broke into a grin, his tears forgotten.
"With you looking out for me, Nathan, it doesn't hurt nearly as much." Tristan smiled.
Marina stood and glanced at my luggage. Contempt dripped from every syllable. "Without me, you're nothing."
Tristan spoke up. "Ms. Pruitt, since Godfrey here is so desperate for a divorce, let me make a suggestion." He paused, savoring the moment. "Make him leave with nothing. No assets, no custody. The kid stays with you." His eyes slid to me. "Let's see if he has the guts to agree."
"Brilliant." Marina's answer came without a second's hesitation.