CHAPTER 7

EUDORA

“What exactly did you just say?”

I had heard him the first time, but a part of me clung desperately to the hope that I had misunderstood. That somehow, he would laugh it off, correct himself, take it back… anything but repeat it.

Slowly, I turned to face him. “You want your sister to do what, exactly?”

“She’s moving in,” He repeated, leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. “By the weekend, she’ll be fully settled. My driver is already going to pick up some of her things today.”

Take a deep breath, Eudora… don’t let him get to you. Don’t lose control. Think about your baby…

I inhaled slowly, forcing air into my lungs.

Then exhaled.

Again.

And again.

“If she steps foot into this house,” I said finally, “then I’m leaving. I will pack my things and walk out that door.”

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as I pushed it back and stood up, my hands trembling slightly at my sides. “I refuse to stay here and be disrespected like that.”

“You are not going anywhere.” He growled as he rose to his feet as well, towering over me. “And let me make something else clear, we are not getting a divorce.”

For a second time that night, I was left completely stunned.

My eyes blinked rapidly as I tried to process his words. “I’m sorry… what did you just say?”

“We are not getting divorced,” he repeated, slower this time, as if speaking to someone who needed things spelled out. “Not until I finalize the deal with EXCO. That should take about a month.”

A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips, but I swallowed it down.

“After that,” he continued, “we can sit down and discuss the divorce.”

“Wait…just hold on a second.” I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, trying to make sense of the madness standing right in front of me. “Let me understand this properly… You expect me to remain in this house, under the same roof, with your mistress… while I’m still legally bound to you?”

“She is not my mistress,” he snapped instantly. “Do not call her that.”

That wasn’t even the main issue, but if that was what struck a nerve, then fine, let it.

Slowly, I raised my hand, making sure he could see it clearly. The gold band resting on my finger and the irritated skin beneath it caught the light. My lips curled slightly, not quite a smile.

“As long as this ring is still on my finger,” I gritted out, “any woman you choose to entertain automatically becomes your mistress… your side piece… your who_”

The loud crack of his hand against my face filled the room before I could finish.

My head snapped violently to the side, the impact stealing both my breath and my words. For a moment, everything went quiet, too quiet, then followed by a ringing sound.

Slowly, I turned back to face him, my hand hovering near my cheek, not quite touching it.

“Did you just… hit me?” I asked softly, my voice almost unfamiliar to my own ears.

His expression didn’t soften, if anything, it hardened.

“Speak about Camellia like that again,” he retorted, “and you will see a side of me you haven’t encountered before.”

A hollow sound left my lips, something between a laugh and disbelief.

I lifted my head fully this time, meeting his gaze without flinching, even though my cheek still burned.

“By Monday,” I said slowly, “I will be filing for a divorce.”

I held his stare, refusing to look away.

“And there is absolutely nothing you, or anyone else can do to stop me.”

I wasn’t foolish enough to believe his excuse.

This wasn’t just about the EXCO deal, not really.

He needed time, yes, but not only for business. He needed time to clean up the mess he had created. Time to carefully craft a believable story, one that would make sense to the public, to the press, to everyone watching his life.

Because how exactly was he going to explain this?

That he married his former fiancée’s sister… only to turn around and divorce her so he could run back to that same ex-fiancée?

No matter how he spun it, it would make him look weak. Indecisive. Like a man with no backbone, someone who drifted wherever his emotions carried him.

And Desmond hated looking weak.

That was the real reason he was stalling.

“You actually think you can stand against me?” Desmond’s voice interrupted my thoughts, mocking. A slow, confident smirk spread across his lips as he looked at me, mildly amused. “Do you even have the strength for that? Even your own parents won’t support you.”

I stepped closer, closing the distance between us until there was barely any space left. If he expected me to shrink back, he was about to be disappointed.

Tilting my chin up, I met his gaze directly, refusing to let even a flicker of doubt show.

“I would rather stand completely alone,” I stressed, punctuating each word, “than remain in the same house with you… and Camellia.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if I had just said something naive.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he replied. “We’re not going to be sharing the same space.”

My brows furrowed.

“You’ll be moving into the basement.”

My steps faltered instantly, my body going still.

“…What?”

“You heard me.” His tone almost bored. “Camellia doesn’t like running into you. It unsettles her. So the easiest solution is simple, you move downstairs. That way, there’s no unnecessary contact.”

For a moment, I just stared at him, trying to process what he had just said.

“Basement.” I mumbled before blurting out a laugher. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am very serious,” he countered, his voice going grave. “And about that nonsense you called a divorce, it is not happening.”

Before I could react, he stepped closer, closing the last bit of space between us until his presence felt suffocating, his face inches from mine.

“You will pack your things,” he continued, “move them to the basement, and keep yourself busy with whatever it is you waste your days doing. And you will not file for a divorce. You will not speak to any lawyer.”

My jaw tightened.

“And if I do?” I shot back, my voice rising. “What if I actually do it?”

His fist came crashing down onto the table with a loud, violent bang that made my entire body jolt. My eyes dropped immediately to where his hand rested against the surface.

That was when I saw it.

A small flash drive lay beside his fist.

“In that drive,” he spat, “is footage from the day you knocked Camellia down.”

My heart skipped.

“And trust me,” he went on, his lips curling slightly, “we won’t hesitate to hand it over to the police. We will build a case so strong that you’ll end up behind bars for a very long time. Long enough for the world to forget you even exist.”

I stared at him, my eyes wide, unblinking, searching his face for any hint that this was a bluff.

There was none.

“What did I do to deserve this?” I asked quietly, the question slipping out before I could stop it. “What exactly have I done to make you and everyone else hate me this much?”

He scoffed, as if the answer was obvious, as if I was the foolish one for even asking.

“You still don’t get it?” he muttered.

I bit my lower lips, blinking.

“One month,” he growled. “That’s all I’m demanding for. After that, you’ll be free, free to walk out of my life and do whatever nonsense you want.”

Before I could react, his hand came up, gripping my face harshly, his fingers digging into my cheeks and forcing my lips apart. Pain shot through my jaw, but I refused to make a sound.

“But listen carefully,” he added, his voice dropping. “If you breathe a word about this to anyone… or if you even think about filing for a divorce before I say so…”

His grip tightened.

“Then your freedom becomes mine too.”

He shoved me back without warning, the force sending me stumbling a step behind. Before I could steady myself, he had already turned away, heading for the door.

“Would it change anything,” I called after him, “if I told you that everything you’ve believed all these years… is a lie?”

Right at the door, he froze.

Slowly, very slowly, he turned his head, his eyes narrowing as they settled on me. “What kind of rubbish are you talking about now?”

I swallowed, my heart pounding, but I didn’t look away.

“What if I told you,” I continued, my voice quieter, “that it wasn’t Camellia who pulled you out of that ditch years ago…”

I paused, letting my words settle.

“…but me?”

For a moment, he didn’t react.

He just stared.

No blinking. No movement. Just a long, unreadable silence between us.

Then suddenly, he laughed.

“Really?” he said, shaking his head slightly as if I had just told the most ridiculous story he’d ever heard. “That’s the card you’re trying to play now? A desperate lie to save yourself?”

His laughter faded as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold glare that pinned me in place.

“Pack your things,” he said flatly. “And move to the basement.”

With that, he turned away again and disappeared down the hallway, his footsteps loud.