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2026-11-11 20:38:56
Cersei L. “The hour of departure has arrived, and we go our separate ways, I to die, and you to live. Which of these two is better only God knows.” - Socrates
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Marrying the Tyrant: You Will Regret Killing Me, Ex-Husband! 122
Lily’s POVThe cold night air hit my lungs like shattered glass as we burst through the back door of the cabin. Behind us, the heavy thud of rounds chewing through the cabin walls sounded like an approaching storm, hitting rhythmically and sending my heartbeat soaring every time I heard it.The forest canopy swallowed the moonlight, plunging the winding trail we threaded into darkness. The narrow dirt path dropped sharply toward the river gorge below, slick with damp moss and frozen autumn leaves."Keep going, Lily! Don't look back!" Diego shouted over the deafening rattle of gunfire echoing from the cabin behind us.His hand was locked around mine, pulling me forward with an iron grip. Every instinct in my body screamed against the darkness, but the sheer velocity of our flight kept my feet moving over exposed roots and jagged stones.We had made it miles down the embankment when the beam of a flashlight cut through the pine trees behind us, washing white light over the brush.“I can
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
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