Chapter 4
William laughed lowly as Grace playfully smacked him. He murmured a soft apology, taking all the blame, brushing it off like some harmless misunderstanding. But as he held her, his eyes flicked toward me, scanning my face for a reaction. He was met with nonchalance. I didn’t show any sign of jealousy, not even a frown. The same tight, uncomfortable feeling he’d felt at the hospital came back. A weight pressing down on his chest, leaving him restless. “Nicole,” he said curtly, “you’ve been on your phone the entire time, it’s a bit rude.” There was a bite in his voice. One he didn’t even bother to hide. “Chatting with your cousin again?” he added when I didn’t respond. “Or is it someone I don’t know about?” I had just finalized my one-way ticket and locked my screen. “Just checking the weather,” I said, my tone steady. My answer only deepened his scowl. Without warning, he snatched the phone from my hand. “What’s the password?” I looked at him, deadpan. “Our wedding anniversary.” Seven years of marriage. And he didn’t remember our wedding date, even though it had only been a few days ago. He typed once. Then again. And again. The phone locked after too many failed attempts. I didn’t say a word. Neither did he. The rest of the drive was tense and silent. When we reached the estate, William was all softness again—toward his darling Grace. He helped her out of the car like she was made of glass, murmuring something about her nausea. His hand never left the small of her back. He ordered the cook to prepare her favorite comfort food. As he passed through the hallway, he saw me walking alone toward the guest room, my suitcase dragging behind me. He paused. For a moment, something flickered across his face—regret? Guilt? He pushed it down. “Find out what Nicole wants and make that too,” he said to the cook. “We’ll all eat together tonight.” Upstairs, I opened the guest room closet and was met with what could only be described as horror. Every outfit I’d left behind was bathed in red. Someone had poured what looked like blood or red paint all over my clothes. Thankfully, I had tucked my passport safely in my suitcase earlier. I let out a slow breath and started putting on my shoes, determined to leave before anyone noticed. But just as I turned around, Grace appeared in the closet. She leaned against the large shoe rack. Her eyes roamed over me in disdain. “Well, look at you,” she sneered. “Still hanging around like a roach that just won’t die.” She stepped closer, her smile sugar-coated and venomous. “You know, it’s kind of pathetic. Everyone laughed behind your back when I took your place—your husband, your house, your status. And here you are, crawling back in like a beggar.” Then, tilting her head mockingly, she added, “Didn’t your mother die last month?” The mention of her stung like a slap. Grace clucked her tongue. “Poor thing. Guess she was the last one who actually cared if you lived or died.” She pulled out her phone and shoved the screen in front of me. “Remember how you begged William to be there with you at her funeral? He was with me, oh the sunset was extra beautiful that day.” The photo showed them on a dock, backlit by golden light, his lips pressed against her forehead. That same day, I had sat on the floor of our hallway, crying into a voicemail he never returned. Something in me snapped. I slapped the phone from her hand. It hit the floor with a clatter. She lunged toward me, but I grabbed her wrist and pushed her back. And before I knew it, she was pushing the shoe rack toward me. I screamed in terror as I hit the floor with the shoe rack pressing me down. Somewhere in the chaos, I heard shouting. “Nicole!” William’s voice, followed by the hurried footsteps of the servants. Grace immediately laid on the floor and started moaning in pain as she heard his voice. She was such a snake. “William… help me…” He didn’t hesitate. He cast me a single glance as I laid there with the weight of the shoe rack over me, and then swept her into his arms and turned away. He didn’t look back. He didn’t even know if I was still alive. ___ When Grace finally fell asleep an hour later, he searched the entire house, but it was way too late. I had already boarded a flight to London, limping as I made my way onto the plane. Just before the plane doors closed, my phone buzzed. A single message from William. [I don’t have time to play games, Nicole. Come home.] I turned the screen off.