Mag-log inLiam stands a few feet away from me, hands in his pockets and eyes glassy. Even from here, I can smell the alcohol.
“Hi Diane.” My name falls from his mouth like it belongs to him.
‘’What are you doing here, Liam Reed?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady against my racing heart.
“You don’t have to say my full name like I’m some stranger” He chuckles, taking a few steps closer while trying not to stumble.
“Well you are”
He steps closer, way too close and I swallow hard.
“Are you drunk?” I ask flatly but it’s more of a statement than a question.
“No. I had a few drinks but I’m not drunk” He slurs.
I can feel the anger build up inside of me as I remember how he would come home drunk and turn into a wild animal. Then, apologize to me the next morning with a bouquet of flowers and some cheap-ass gifts.
“I’ve been trying to reach you” He says “You changed your number. You blocked me everywhere”
“Yes, that was intentional”
His jaw tightens and his gaze darkens. I gulp. I know that look too well.
“You think you can just erase three years? Three fucking years? Just like that?”
Three years of tears and broken promises. Three years of physical and emotional abuse. Of gaslighting and never ending excuses. Three years of hoping for the impossible.
“You should leave” I say quietly
“Why? So you can go home to your new boyfriend?” He laughs softly.
“I’m not doing this with you, Liam” I whisper, turning to my car
His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist firmly. The all too familiar feeling washes over me and I try to calm myself down.
“Let go off me” I breathe
“You left me when I needed you the most. I did everything to make you happy and yet you were never appreciative of my efforts”
I laugh painfully “You have some nerve to say that to me, Liam! For three years you treated me like I was nothing. You isolated me from my friends and called it protection. You gambled away all my money. Spent all my money on women and bullshit. And as if that wasn’t enough, you would get physical with me every time something went wrong in your life. Is that your version of happiness?”
His grip tightens
“You’re overreacting”
And just like that I find myself in the same apartment six months ago. Back in the old version of me who thought love was accepting chaos.
“I said let me go!” I scream. I feel his body press on mine as we lean against the car and I struggle even more to breathe. I feel the colour drain from my face.
The next second happens so fast I barely process it. A hand pulls Liam away from me and a fist connects with Liam’s jaw. A tall figure comes to sight and I recognize him as Jason.
He grabs Liam by the collar and drives another punch into his jaw. Then another.
And another.
“Jason!” I gasp
Liam’s body collides with the floor and blood spills out of his mouth and nose but Jason doesn’t stop.
“How dare you fucking touch her!” Jason straddles Liam, fists rising and falling in brutal, relentless rhythm.
“This is for speaking to her” Punch
“This is for coming close to her”
“This is for thinking about touching her” Another punch
Liam grows weaker and weaker and his movements are barely noticeable.
“Jason, stop!” I cry out. He still doesn’t hear me
“You’re going to kill him, Jason!” I call out, rushing forward.
I have never seen him like this. It’s almost as if he’s been possessed by something darker. Uncontrollable rage. And this side of him scares me.
“Jason, he’s not moving!” My voice cracks and he stops.
Liam lays half-conscious beneath him groaning faintly. Jason’s chest rises and falls heavily. His knuckles are scrapped and his eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen in the last six months. He no longer looks like the playful, annoying roommate I always argue with. He looks dangerous.
“Please” I whisper “You’re really scaring me”
His head snaps towards me and something in his expression shifts. It’s as if my words snap him out of his own dark world into reality. He stands slowly, wiping his hand on his jeans as if it’s nothing more than dust.
“If you ever come near her again” He steps closer to him one last time. “ I won’t stop until the very last breath you take is in my hands”
Something tells me it’s more than just a threat. I raise my head to find my friends in shock, eyes wide, and colour drained from their faces. I wonder how much of that they had to see.
Jason grabs my hand gently and walks me over to his car like nothing happened
…
The ride home is quiet except for my uneven breathing. Jason’s grip on the steering wheel gets tighter and tighter by the second. I can feel how intensely he looks at the road as his jaw clenches. I feel so cold and my body starts shaking.
“You didn’t have to do that” I say quietly
“Yes I did”
“He could’ve…” I feel a lump in my throat “He could’ve died”
His hands tighten around the steering wheel again. I doubt he could grip any tighter than that.
“He didn’t” He says flatly “Maybe he should’ve”
“Don’t say that”
“Men like him don’t change Diane. How the hell did you end up with that bastard?”
My throat burns and my fingers tighten around the seatbelt. That night flashes back before I can stop it. The silk tie on my wrists. “We’re trying something new” He’d said, smirking and kissing me between words. I trusted him. It was supposed to be harmless. Exciting even.
Until it wasn’t.
Until the pillow pressed harder than it should have. I tried to move and I couldn’t. The only thing I was holding on to was the sound of his laughter that no longer seemed playful. He kept the pillow on my face long enough to make my chest burn.
“Relax”, he’d said afterward. “You’re being dramatic”
I was convinced it was kinky gone wrong and that he didn’t mean it.
“Hey” Jason’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Why are you crying?”
I don’t even realize I am until a tear hits my hand.
“You’re shaking” He slows down the car and then pulls over completely “Shit”
“Diane”
My vision is blurry and my shoulders shake uncontrollably as I cry in the most undignified fashion ever.
“Why are you crying?” He asks again, genuinely confused.
I shake my head, pressing my palm against my face like I can physically push the emotion back inside.
“I’m fine” I manage to say between sobs
“No, you’re obviously not”
Time stretches strangely after that. I don’t know how long I sit there unravelling but Jason doesn’t interrupt. He just watches quietly without judgement. When I finally catch my breath, I feel so drained.
“I’m so sorry” I whisper, embarrassed “I don’t know what came over me”
He reaches into the back seat and pulls out a small box of tissues, handing it to me without a word. This simple gesture makes my chest tighten again.
I dab at my face mortified. “This is embarrassing”
“It’s not”
I look at him expecting a smug expression on his face. Instead, I’m met with a serious, concerned look on his handsome face.
“Did he do something to you?”
Jason’s POVThe first thing I notice when I wake up is the silence. It's the specific emptiness of a bed meant for two. I open my eyes and realize Diane’s side is cold. She’s been up for a while. Old habit makes me reach across anyway. I sit up, run a hand through my hair, and pull on my sweatpants. The city outside is still grey and half-asleep. I move through the silent penthouse until I find her standing in the doorway of the east guest suite, wearing one of my shirts that skims her thighs, hair loose down her back. The bed inside is untouched. “He’s gone,” she says quietly, sensing me behind her. “Yes.” “I knew he would be.” Her voice carries a quiet ache. “I hoped I was wrong, but I think I knew the moment he walked in.” I step beside her and slip an arm around her waist. “The debt will be cleared. Raphael’s on it. My lawyers are already handling your mother’s house. You’ll have the deed back soon.” She turns to me, eyes soft with something between gratitude and exha
Diane’s POV"What's going on in here?"Jason’s deep, commanding voice slices through the room from the hallway.I turn.He stands in the doorway wearing a fitted grey t-shirt that clings to his broad chest and black sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. His arms are folded loosely, but his sharp eyes move between me and Darole, seeing everything and revealing nothing.Darole’s face instantly hardens. The vulnerability I saw moments ago disappears behind that familiar defensive wall he always puts up around men he thinks are judging him.“Ah,” Darole says, leaning back on the sofa with fake casualness. “The rich husband finally shows up. Come to save the day?”Jason stares at him for a long, silent moment before his gaze shifts to me. “Diane. What’s going on?”“Nothing,” I say automatically.He gives me that look — the one that says he knows I’m lying.I exhale, giving in. “He owes a lot of money. He used Mom’s house as collateral and the deal fell through.”Jason processes i
Diane's POVMy brother looks like a man who has been losing for a long time and has only just admitted it to himself.He steps out of the elevator in a jacket that has seen significantly better days, the leather cracked at the elbows, his hands shoved into pockets that might contain nothing at all. His eyes move around the penthouse with that specific expression people get when they are trying not to look impressed and failing completely.He is broader than I remember. A little greyer at the temples. Thirty-four years old and wearing every single one of them.His eyes find me across the marble expanse of my living room."Dee," he says. It's the name I absolutely hate, the one he uses when he wants something from me. I don't remember the last time I saw him look this sober."Darole," I say back, my heart racing wondering what sort of conversation I'm about to have with my brother who I have not had a proper conversation with in years.Jason cups my face and plants a kiss on my lips."I
Diane's POVIt’s been months since I spent a night away from Jason. The two-week break I needed wasn’t just about the abortion; it was about untangling the emotional wreckage that came with it.Having Scar and Nancy by my side made it bearable. Getting rid of the pregnancy was difficult, but necessary. I’d rather be childless than have a child caught in the crossfire of an unsolved case. The relief I felt was overwhelming, though weird.When I walk through the front door, Jason is waiting. He crosses the distance between us in seconds, his arms wrapping around me with a force that steals the breath from my lungs.I don't fight it. I let the strap of my bag slip from my shoulder and bury my face against his chest, inhaling deeply the scent of him. Mint and wood. It's so distinctly his that I can't separate the two anymore without thinking of him."I missed you," he breathes against my hair, and the knot in my chest finally loosens."I missed you too," I whisper.He pulls back slowly, k
Diane's POVThe flowers are still on my desk. White peonies. My absolute favorite. Jason knows this, of course. Which is precisely why they're there, and why I haven't thrown them away despite the satisfaction it might bring. These flowers and my anger can coexist.I refuse to examine what that means.I'm halfway through source notes when my phone rings. Expecting Nancy or Scarlett, I glance down. Instead, Liam's name flashes across the screen.I frown slightly as I answer. "Hey. What's…""He's gone.” He blurts. I've heard Liam drunk, angry, manipulative, charming, but never like this. Something fundamental has been stripped from his voice, leaving only the hollow echo behind."What do you mean gone?" I ask carefully."My dad." His voice trembles with the effort of control. "He was there last night. I sat with him for two hours. The nurses checked on him at eleven and he was stable."There's a short pause before he continues."This morning he was gone. No transfer record, no discharg
Jason's POVIt's been four days since Diane spoke to me, and the silence in our home is deafening. I know exactly why she's pissed off. I'd be furious too if my husband hit me with something as devastating as "you're only here because you needed me to fix your life." I just hope she likes the flowers I sent her this morning.Knowing Diane, they're probably sitting on her desk. She's too practical to throw out good flowers even when she's furious with me.I knew saying that would hurt her. There's no point pretending it wasn't deliberate. This darkness has been part of me since I can remember. When Carla cheated on me years ago, I didn't just leave, I cheated back just to twist the knife. That's what I do—hurt those who hurt me. Though in this case, she couldn't have known the depth of her words' impact. The last thing I want is to be anything like that son of a bitch stepfather of mine. To compare me to him was close to the most painful thing she could have said. And instead of expla







