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2026-09-28 21:03:15
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Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 121
Lily’s POV.The silence inside the cabin grew cold and into something suffocating.It felt my throat closing in, my lungs squeezing, but I held it in. I shut my eyes, doing my breathing exercises slowly as I calmed myself. One, two, I thought, I’m not alone.Three four, Diego’s here.Five, six…When I opened my eyes, the dense pines outside stood like sentinels under the pale moonlight, but the shadows beneath them had changed. They weren't swaying with the breeze anymore.Something’s wrong.Diego didn't make a sound. He slipped off the sofa with precision, his hand gripping the cold steel of his sidearm as he crouched low beside the stone hearth. His eyes locked onto mine, signaling with a single, sharp tilt of his head toward the door leading to the back bedroom corridor.Stay back.I didn't move away. I couldn’t.Instead, my heart hammering like a trapped bird against my ribs, I slid off the opposite side of the sofa, keeping low against the rustic floorboards. I was wearing Lol
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 120
Lily’s POVThe helicopter touched down on the pad just beyond the valley ridge with a gentle sigh, the blades slowing their rotation until they were nothing more than a lazy, rhythmic blur against the fading light of late evening.Stepping out onto the pine-scented gravel, the noise of NYC felt like it was a lifetime away.The resort hadn't changed at all in five years. It still lived in the contours of the valley, the building beautifully small and preserved and entirely too artistic, almost like it had been lifted from out of a Tolkien painting, stone pathways winding through alpine gardens, the cottage smoking softly against the chill, and the low rushing river cutting through the river below.By the time we checked into the resort, the sun was painting the sky in shades of violet and gold.We walked hand-in-hand down the stone path toward the orchards and the riverbank where we had spent our very first awkward moment years ago. It felt fresh in my mind, Diego’s arms around my bod
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 119
Lily’s POVThe green room at Prime Hour Media smelled strangely familiar—I’d spent years of my marriage facing the entirety of New York from these halls after all, but it also smelled fresh and welcoming and so different. The subtle tang of hairspray coated my lungs, despite the makeup artist leaving us a few minutes earlier.I stood before the floor-to-ceiling studio mirror, my fingers smoothing the lapel of my navy blazer that caught the amber mirror lights. Beneath it, a cream blouse framed my collarbones, reminding me of the high-contrast outfits I wore when Diego and I were still navigating the tightrope of public scrutiny, constantly being under fire or fear of the unknown.Only today, the atmosphere was entirely different. Five years ago, sitting in this exact green room, my palms used to damp with cold sweat. Back then, every interview felt like an audition—a high-stakes performance where a stray micro-expression, a delayed glance, or a stiff posture could trigger a panic or
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 118
Diego’s POVThe silence of Wisteria Gardens after midnight was a very different kind of quiet than the heavy, suffocating stillness of the Adirondack safehouse.Here, the silence breathed. It carried the faint, distant rustle of the autumn wind through the ancient oaks lining the perimeter, the steady, rhythmic hum of the manor’s central heating, and nothing else. No crunch of gravel under uninvited tires. No distant sirens or comms alarms chiming in the dark. Just peace.I stood in the dim, amber-lit hallway outside Leo’s bedroom, leaning my shoulder against the crown-molded doorframe. The door was cracked an inch wide, allowing a warm wedge of yellow light to spill across the hardwood floor.Inside, Lily was sitting on the edge of Leo’s low wooden bed.She had traded her jackets and sharp blazers for an oversized, cream-colored cashmere sweater that swallowed her hands, her dark hair falling in soft, loose waves over her shoulders. She looked smaller like this—not the iron-willed
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 117
Lily’s POVThe air outside the safehouse smelled oddly of snow and gunpowder.Within minutes of the breach, local state police units—alerted by Sienna—swarmed the private access road. Unmarked vehicles and state troopers secured the perimeter, taking Raymond’s surviving men into custody immediately while marshals formally served Raymond Vance with a multi-count indictment for conspiracy, racketeering, and wire fraud.We stood on the wooden porch of the safehouse, watching as two federal agents hoisted Raymond to his feet, cuffing his hands securely behind his back before shoving him into the back of a black van.Raymond didn't look back at us. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, his face hollowed out by the realization that years of shadows had finally ended in a pair of handcuffs.“Mr and Mrs. Rookwood, we’re sorry this happened,” the sheriff said as he approached us. “We hope this never happens again. Raymond Vance will pay for all his crimes.Oh he will. I nodded. “Thank you, Sherif
Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 116
Lily’s POV.Getting back to the van took harder than it should, due to Julian’s men crawling around the entire area. But once we got in, Diego pulled out almost immediately, cutting through the silent gloom of the upstate highway, its heavy tires hissing softly against the road.It was almost dawn, and exhaustion was slowly creeping in, replacing all the thrill and fear of adrenaline that had kept me going the entire night.Inside the cabin, the dashboard lights cast long shadows across our faces. Nobody spoke. The exhaustion of our little infiltration hung heavy in the air, but beneath it thrummed an electric clarity and a little victory. We had the drive and the mirrored scripts. We had the 1998 contingency files. We had the proof that bound Raymond Vance and Richard Winston together in the original conspiracy that killed my mother.That was victory, on its own.I sat in the passenger seat, staring down at the tablet resting in my lap. The screen displayed Sienna’s unpacked data—do
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