Chapter 4 - The Punishment

Alexander pov 

I watch Elena remove her jewelry with trembling hands, the emerald gown pooling at her feet, and all I can see is her laughing with Marcus Rivera, actually laughing, that genuine smile I've never seen directed at me, and rage burns through my veins like acid.

The car ride home was suffocating silence, tension so thick I could taste it, now we're in the bedroom and she thinks she can just walk away, pretend tonight didn't happen, pretend she didn't humiliate me in front of half of Manhattan.

I pour myself a scotch, my third of the night, watch her reach for the door handle.

"We're not done talking."

My voice stops her cold, she turns slowly, still in that ridiculous gown, her face exhausted.

"What else is there to say, Alexander? You've made your position very clear."

"Have I?" I set down my glass harder than necessary, "because it looked like you forgot your position tonight, chatting up my enemy at a public event, laughing like you don't have a care in the world."

Her eyes flash with something dangerous, "He was being nice to me, something you've never managed in four years of marriage."

I step closer, my hands clenching into fists.

 "Nice? Marcus Rivera doesn't do anything without an agenda, he's using you to get to me, he wants to destroy me and you're too naive to see it."

Elena laughs and it's bitter, broken, "Using me? That's rich coming from you, what do you call what we have? What do you call this arrangement where you parade me around like your property while you sleep with half of New York?"

"We have an arrangement," I say coldly, "one you agreed to, one you signed your name to, one you're handsomely compensated for, or did you forget about the mansion, the clothes, the lifestyle I provide?"

"I'm not your employee," her voice cracks, "I'm your wife"

"You're whatever I say you are," I cut her off, my voice dropping dangerously low.

"Read the contract, Elena, clause twelve, section four, you agreed to play the devoted wife in public, that means not flirting with other men at charity galas, that means not making me look like a fool."

"I wasn't flirting!" she's almost shouting now, "he was having a conversation with me, treating me like a human being, asking about my work, my foundation, things you've never once cared about!"

I down the rest of my scotch, the burn feels good.

"A conversation, right, is that what you call it? You gave him your number, I saw him hand you his card."

"He gave me his card for charity work," Elena says through gritted teeth, "for a potential partnership with the literacy foundation, it was completely professional."

I cross the room in three strides, grab her wrist, "Let me make something very clear to you, you will not see Marcus Rivera again, you will not call him, you will not speak to him, if I find out you've contacted him in any way there will be consequences."

Elena tries to jerk free, "You're hurting me, let go."

I release her wrist but don't step back, crowd her space, "That's nothing compared to what I'll do if you humiliate me again, do you understand?"

"How is it humiliation when you do it to me every single day?" her voice breaks, tears streaming down her face now, 

"Every time you're photographed with another woman, every time you come home smelling like perfume that isn't mine, every time I have to smile and pretend we're happy while everyone whispers about your affairs, how is that fair?"

"Fair?" I laugh, "you want to talk about fair? You were nobody when I married you, Elena, an orphan with nothing, I gave you everything, this house, those clothes, a life most women would kill for."

"I never asked for any of this," she whispers.

"No, you asked for money and security and I gave it to you." 

I pour another drink, need something to do with my hands before I do something I'll regret.

 "Now you're going to honor your end of the contract, play your part, stop making my life difficult."

"What if I don't?" Elena lifts her chin, defiant even with tears on her cheeks.

 "what if I'm done pretending? What if I want a divorce?"

The word hangs in the air like a bomb, I set down my glass very carefully, turn to face her fully.

"Then you lose Julian, is that what you want? To never see your son again?"

Her face goes white, "You wouldn't"

"I would," I say flatly, "I will take him from you, I will make sure you're deemed an unfit mother, I have lawyers who can make it happen. Elena, The best lawyers money can buy, they will paint you as unstable, as having affairs, as abandoning your child for your own selfish desires."

"I'm not having an affair," she sobs.

"Those photos of you and Rivera say otherwise," I lie, "imagine what a judge will think, imagine losing Julian because you couldn't keep your place."

"He's your son," Elena's voice is barely audible, "how can you use him as a weapon?"

"Exactly," I move closer, "my son, and he stays with me, now get out of my sight, I can't stand to look at you right now."

She runs, I hear her footsteps on the marble floor, hear the guest room door slam, hear the lock click, good, let her stew in there, let her remember who's in control.

I pour another drink, tell myself I feel nothing but satisfaction at putting her in her place, she needed to be reminded of the consequences of defying me, needed to understand that this is my house, my rules and my life.

But something uncomfortable twists in my chest when I remember her face, the hurt in her eyes, the way her hands shook, I crush the feeling immediately, pour more scotch. 

She'll get over it, she always does.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, Victoria's name flashing, Can I see you tomorrow? I miss you

I respond quickly, Yes, I'll text you the address then open my calendar and book a suite at The Plaza for tomorrow afternoon, out of spite, out of rage, out of this need to prove to myself that I don't need Elena, that she means nothing.

Another message comes through, unknown number, I'm starting to hate these, You think you control her but you're losing her, tick tock Harrington, how long until she realizes she doesn't need you?

My jaw clenches, I dial security immediately, "I want to know who's sending these messages, trace the number, find out who's behind this."

"Yes sir," David answers, "anything else?"

"Increase surveillance on my wife," I say, "I need to know everywhere she goes, everyone she talks to, every phone call, every text, everything."

"Sir, that's"

"I don't care if it's legal or not," I snap, "just do it, I need to know if she contacts Marcus Rivera again."

I hang up, pace the bedroom, my mind racing with possibilities I don't want to face.

What if Elena really does leave? 

What if she's brave enough to risk losing Julian? 

What if I've pushed her too far this time?

I shake off the thoughts, pour another drink, she won't leave, she can't, clause forty-seven ensures it, I made sure of that.

Before bed I check on Julian, need to see my son, remind myself why I'm doing all this.

 He's sleeping peacefully, dark curls messy on his pillow, one small hand clutching his stuffed bear, he looks so innocent, so pure, nothing like the ugliness of his parents' marriage.

For a moment guilt flickers, what would Julian think of the man his father is becoming? 

What will I tell him when he's old enough to understand that I kept his mother trapped, controlled, miserable?

I push the thought away, reach for the door handle, then make a decision, I turn the lock from the outside, a new security measure I tell myself, just to keep him safe, nothing to do with control.

"Mr. Harrington," Mrs. Winters's voice startles me, she's standing in the hallway looking horrified, "this isn't right, locking the child in his room."

"I'm protecting him," I say coldly, "there have been threats, security concerns."

"What threats?" she challenges, "or is this about controlling everything in this house including an innocent child?"

"My father taught me that control is protection," I say, "keep everything locked down, keep everyone in their place, that's how you maintain order."

Mrs. Winters's face goes pale, her voice drops to something like pity.

"Your father taught you wrong, sir, he died alone and bitter because of it, and you're about to lose everything because you're following his path, everything that matters, you're going to lose it all."

"Get out," I say quietly.

"Mr. Harrington"

"I said get out," my voice rises “mind your own business”.

She leaves, shaking her head, and I'm left standing in the dark hallway, Julian locked in his room, Elena locked in the guest room, everyone exactly where I put them, everything under control.

So why does it feel like I'm the one trapped?