Chapter 20
Fiona’s POV
As soon as I walked into the house, I took off my shoes and felt the silence envelope me. I didn’t go straight to my room. Instead, I flopped into the sofa and allowed my bag to hit the floor in a soft thud.
For a second, I just stared blankly at the ceiling.
And then I slowly felt a smirk form on my lips.
And I didn’t often smile after a confrontation. I was not the kind of person to take pride in slapping someone on national television or pulling skeletons from closets. But Vanessa had that coming – and to see her shrink in front of those people, eyes wide and voice jammed in her throat, so much grief and regret to be found in as few words as possible, it gave me a peace I hadn’t felt in some time.
It didn’t wipe it all away, but it felt like a minor victory. And I needed one.
My phone vibrated unexpectedly next to me. It was a lazy reach for it, because it was such a normal thing, a text from my brother or one of the staff telling me what to think about next. But the name on the screen caused my stomach to clench.
Killian.
My fingers paused over the answer button. He was meant to be in France, likely buried under meetings and corporate dinners with chilled champagne and five–star views. Why was he calling me now?
I picked up the phone, held it to my ear and listened.
No one spoke at first.
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Silence on the line for a few seconds, just the low hum of whatever was in the background on his end and my breath lightly breathing against the receiver.
Then I heard his voice – low, calm. “Are you okay?”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I said, ‘Are you okay?“” he repeated.
The question took me by surprise. I sat up a little on the couch, scowling. “I’m… fine. Why?”
There was another brief pause.
Then he said it. “Will you let me deal with the woman who wronged you?”
My breath caught.
What?
“How–how do you know that?” I asked, voice colder now. I tightened my grip on the phone.
Another pause.
That’s when it hit me.
My jaw clenched. “Are you… are you watching me, Killian?”
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Chapter 20
He didn’t respond right away.
Of course he didn’t.
When he finally spoke, his voice was as even as always, but there was a slight shift in it just enough to tell me that he wasn’t apologizing.
“You’re my wife,” he said. “It’s my job to protect you.”
Protect.
I held the word in place for a second, like rolling it around in my head might alter the way it sounded.
“I didn’t ask for your goddamn protection,” I shot back.
“You didn’t need to,” he said, as relaxed as ever. “Good or bad, your safety is my responsibility.”
I opened my mouth to argue again, to let him know he had no right. That even as I remained maritally, legally married on paper, that, didn’t give him the right to treat me like one of his assets in his portfolio to manage, to control.
But before I could open my mouth
Click.
The call ended.
He hung up.
–
I sat slack–jawed in front of the screen.
For a few seconds I could only sit frozen there, the soft silence of the house now almost too loud.
How dare he?
I stood suddenly and threw the phone down onto the couch, pacing the living room in tight, stabbing steps.
He had no right to do that.
To track me. To know where I was. What I was doing. Who I was with.
I hated it. The way he thought everything was his to fix. That just because I was under his roof, under his name, it meant full access to every inch of my life.
But under all the anger and resentment, there was something else. That I didn’t want to admit.
Because as much as being watched made me hate myself…
A part of me
–
one that I refused to nourish
—
was…
relieved.
He cared.
He called.
He knew about Vanessa, and even though we were miles apart, he protected me instinctively.
I despised that it offered me a sense of safety.
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Chapter 20
I hated it even more that it felt seen me.
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But I knew better than to let that feeling fester. I couldn’t afford to misread his intent, not again. Not after all that I’d gone through. About how protection could become control, easy as falling off a log, and I wasn’t going to be fooled again.
I ceased my pacing, sitting heavily on the couch’s edge.
I could feel my fists clench in the fabric of my dress.
It was the same mask Desmond had put on for decades prior to just the real face started peeking through.
I gasped, then leaned back against the couch and unlocked my phone again. My fingers rested over the call log for a moment, then I punched New Call and entered the number I had yet to delete.
Not because I wanted to hold on to it.
But because sometimes friends are worth watching closer than enemies.
The line rang once.
Twice.
Then–click.
&
A smooth, familiar voice piped out of the receiver. “Fiona?”
He sounded… surprised. Eager, even. Pathetic.
“Wow,” he said, his voice immediately turning syrupy. “I wasn’t expecting this. I honestly didn’t think you’d ever get in touch. I know things have been wild lately, but I’m glad you called. I’ve always said, mistakes are made and-”
“Shut up, Desmond,” I said.
Silence hung on the other end.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,” I responded coldly. “I didn’t call to make peace. And I certainly didn’t make a call to apologize.”
He gave an awkward cough into his throat. “Then… why did you call?”
I didn’t waste time. “Put a leash on your sister.”
His voice shifted instantly. “Excuse me?”
‘You heard me.” My tone was edged. “If I see her again, Desmond – if she so much as draws breath in my direction – I will destroy her.”
‘Fiona, you can’t just-”
‘Don’t you interrupt me,” I said, my voice low and lethal now. “Next time Vanessa wants to play smart in front of the world,
put everything out. Every dirty secret. Every man. Every bribe. Every record I’ve got from her little excursions.”
He was quiet.
I smiled slowly. “And believe me, I have a lot.”
“You’re bluffing,” he replied after a while.
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Chapter 20
“Oh?” I said with a little laugh. “Try me.”
He exhaled sharply. “So this is why the call was made? You only wanted to threaten me?”
“Yes,” I said coolly. “Did you think I was looking for closure? That I missed your voice? Please.”
“Fiona, don’t do that,” he began growing louder.
But I’d had enough.
“And if you give a damn about the little reputation you have left, Desmond, keep a leash on your sister. I am not the same woman you stepped over. “And the next time, I’m not walking away.”
Then, before waiting for an answer, I hung up.
I looked at my face reflected back in the dark screen of the phone.
Calm. Cold. Composed.
Just the way I needed to be.
I stood and walked into the kitchen, needing to do something physical – something normal, to slice calm the storm of emotion still rushing through me. I assembled an easy pasta dish, threw some herbs in with excess vehemence, let the sound of crackling oil echo through the space.
After eating, I went back to the couch and at my phone, trying to lose myself in something — anything – less dramatic than my life.
I didn’t swipe for long when a headline popped out at me.
“Woman Attacked in Broad Daylight – Video Goes Viral”
My heart skipped.
My curiosity piqued, I clicked on the video. A grainy video rolled, restaurant security footage shot from a phone: two people sparring each other by the side of a busy street. The man was full–on yelling, furious, and he reached out and slapped the woman hard across the face.
Gasps from people nearby. A few screamed. Some took out their phones.
I watched as the woman lurched back, hair a tangle, heels teetering beneath her. She attempted to shove him, but he shoved her still.
her face.
And I froze.
It was Vanessa.
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… her silhouette… how her voice broke in the background…
magnified the view.
