Chapter 2

Divorce.

That's the only way forward, isn't it?

I'm still standing and staring mute at the photo album in my hands. It doesn't make sense. Deckard? Georgia? How...? When?

But even as I turn it over in my mind, I know deep down that it all makes sense. Yes, Deckard cared for me, but can I confidently say he loves me? A man that has never touched his wife...that's not love, isn't it?

He just... tolerated me at best.

But I? I gave up my acting career to be his wife! I sacrificed my dreams just so I could be with him, and this is how he repays me?

Jerking off to his stepmom? Disgusting piece of–

"Mrs Newton?"

I spin around to find Victoria staring at me with concern. "Oh heavens, are you alright?"

I sniff, just then realizing that I've been crying. I drop the photo album back on the table and wipe my tears.

"The news about the master's father...it's just terrible dear. And all on your anniversary? I'm so sorry," she says softly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm fine, Tori. I just...I need a moment."

"Of course. Let me know if you need anything."

I turn around and make my way down the hall. There's no need to stay in this marriage if all I get is disgrace. All these years I foolishly believed that if I tried hard enough, I would get him to desire me, when in truth, he desired another woman.

Foolish! I'm so stupid!

Voices grab my attention and I follow it to stop just outside the guest room Deckard took Georgia to. In my anger, I didn't realize the hall I was walking down was the one for guests.

The door is slightly open and I lean in to listen to their conversation, curious to know what they talk about in private.

"Don't be afraid, Gia," I hear Deckard say. He sounds so tender, never has he been this way with me. "I'm here now, and I'll protect you and Riley. Okay?"

"But your grandmother hates me," Georgia is saying. "She'll try to take everything and leave my son and I with nothing. Who knows? She might even try to sue me for the death of your father!"

"My father's properties are all mine, and I would never let my grandmother do that to you, okay?"

Georgia whimpers and I hear some kind of fumbling that suggests body on body contact.

"Listen to me, Gia," Deckard's voice is low now. "You don't have to go back to that house if you don't want to. You and Riley are safe here with me. This is your home now."

Georgia says something else, her voice sounding muffled.

Deckard’s response is immediate. "Don’t make trouble, Gia. I’ve never touched her, and you know that."

I move away from the door, my heart completely breaking. It's one thing to realize it, it's another thing to hear your husband admit that he never touched you because of another woman.

Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days of me wondering what was wrong with me. Was I too gaunt? Not pretty enough? Was my touch too needy? I had spent thousands on lingerie, hours in the gym, and countless nights crying myself to sleep, thinking I was failing as a woman.

But look at that. It was all for her.

Why then? Why marry me if he loved someone else? Why torture me for Christ sake?!

There's a sudden crash in the living room, followed by Riley laughing.

"Oh no!" I hear Victoria gasp.

I turn away from the door and make my way to the living room. What has that boy done again?

Victoria is on the floor when I arrive, her knees in the middle of broken glass and splintered wood. Riley is standing over her, his small face twisted in a mean smile.

"What happened?"

Victoria looks up at me, tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Newton. I saw him...he took the frame from the table and I tried to stop him, but he just...he threw it at me."

My heart leaps. What frame? I look at the table where the most important of my belongings should be, but it's gone.

Among the broken glass on the ground is the a faded picture. The only one I have. In it, a two year old version of me is being held between a man and a woman looking so happy.

My parents. They died three months after that picture was taken and it's the only proof I have that I was once loved unconditionally.

And now it's broken.

Quietly, I kneel down, my light material dress dragging on the glass, and my hands shake as I reach for the paper.

"This is my house," Riley giggles. "Daddy Deckard said so! He said we're the real family and you're just the maid!"

"Shut up," I whisper, my throat closing up instantly. I carefully pick up the photo, but a large piece of glass is stuck into the corner of the frame.

"No! I want the picture!" He reaches forward, his small heavy shoe stepping directly on my hand. He shoves me with a surprising amount of strength for a child. "Give it!"

The glass slices deep into my palm and I wince, crying out loud as bright red blood begins to bloom on the white carpet and the edge of my precious picture.

"Sydney! What is going on?"

I look up to see Deckard and Georgia hurrying into the room. Georgia immediately rushes to Riley, pulling him into her arms as if he were the one in danger.

"Riley, baby, are you okay?" she coos, checking him for scratches. She looks at me, her blue eyes flashing with anger. "Sydney, honestly! He’s just a child. You shouldn't be arguing with a five-year-old, especially today of all days. He’s traumatized!"

"He broke my photo, Georgia," I say, standing up slowly. I’m clutching the blood-stained picture to my chest, my hand dripping blood onto the floor. "He threw it at Victoria and then he shoved me."

"It was an accident!" She snaps. "He’s restless! He’s lost his father! How can you be so heartless and petty over a piece of paper? It’s just a picture, Sydney. We can buy you a new frame."

Maybe because I know she's been cozying up to Deckard, but there's this disgust that flares in me when she speaks.

"I don't want a new frame," I grind out. "I want this one. And it wasn't an accident if he threw it."

Riley begins to cry all of a sudden, burying his face in his mother's skirt. "She yelled at me!"

Deckard steps forward, his hard eyes on me. He doesn't look at my bleeding hand, he just looks like he wants to please her.

"That's enough Syd. Georgia is right. Riley is five and he doesn't understand the value of things. He's grieving and you're standing here picking a fight with him? I know you don't want them here, but you're going to have to compromise."

"And by compromise, you mean letting a brat ruin all my things?"

"He’s a child, Sydney! He repeats things he hears or imagines," Deckard barks, stepping closer to Georgia. "You are being insensitive and cruel and you know what? I expected more from you. Now, apologize to them for making a scene and go upstairs."

I look at him... really look at him. The blonde hair, the grey eyes I used to find so handsome. All of that suddenly fades and it feels like I'm looking at a stranger.

Silently, I hold up bleeding hand.

The blood is coating my fingers now. I hold up the broken, blood-smeared photo of my parents. I let him see the cut across my palm, the glass still glinting in the wound.

He freezes. His eyes drop to the blood, then to the photo, and then back to my face. For a split second, I see a flicker of something. Guilt? Realization?

He looks at Riley who has stopped crying to watch the blood with morbid curiosity.

"Sydney, I—" Deckard starts, this time, softly.

I don't give him the chance to explain anything or to apologize. Instead, I turn around and quietly make my way up the stairs to my room.

I can hear Georgia starting to whisper-sob again, likely trying to get back Deckard’s full attention, but I don’t care. They can do what the fuck they want, and I've already made up my mind.

I'm leaving this hell.

About twenty minutes after I clean up my wound, the door opens and Deckard walks in. He approaches me softly, his eyes checking to see if I'm in a good mood to talk.

"Syd," he says, sitting on the bench across from the bed. "Look, about earlier...I was stressed, okay? The hospital, the funeral arrangements...it's a lot. I shouldn't have snapped at you and I didn't realize that was the photo Riley broke. Listen, I'll have it restored, okay? I'll find the best specialists in the country and it'll be like it never happened."

I look at him calmly. My head is now clear, like everything is happening in slow motion and I'm able to pick out all my thoughts.

"It's okay," I tell him.

He breaths a sigh of relief and a small smug smile touches his lips. He probably thinks he's won, that he's managed to contain me once again.

"I’m glad you understand." He reaches for my face, rubbing the dried tears on my cheek. "Georgia and Riley are going to stay in the guest wing for a few weeks until things settle. I knew you’d be big enough to—"

"I want a divorce."

"What?"