What the hell are you doing here?

Bianca’s pov

The silence that followed my announcement was a physical presence in the room. Brandon had not uttered a single word.

“Would you like to say something?” I asked, the words fracturing at the edges.

He only stared, his jaw set like stone, his features arranged into the expression I knew all too well, the one that signaled a storm was seconds from breaking. It was his bomb-counting look.

“Bianca,” Rosa interjected, her gaze darting toward Brandon before settling on me with false warmth. “I am certain your new companion will be lovely. You managed to find Brandon and keep him, after all. You clearly have an eye for quality.”

Her smile made my hands curl into fists. I wanted to launch the nearest object directly at her perfect, placid face. My nails pressed half-moons into my own palms. Stay calm. If you react, he will have you committed, and then how will you save this marriage?

“No.” Brandon’s voice cut through the tension, sudden and absolute.

“What?”

“The answer is no, Bianca,” he stated, his tone frigid and final.

I stared, unable to process the sheer arrogance. “This was not a request. I was informing you of my decision. So when you see me with another man, you will not bother asking any questions.”

His eyes narrowed, and for the first time in years, I saw genuine fury in those green depths. “Are you throwing my own words back at me? Is this some kind of pathetic game? You invent a boyfriend to make me jealous? Was that your brilliant fucking plan?”

“Why would I want to make you jealous, Brandon?”

“Because that is what you do!” His voice climbed, filling the space between us. “You are a manipulator. Every single thing you do is a calculated move. But this? This is too far. You are not seeing anyone, and that is the end of it!”

He slammed a palm down on the table with such force that a glass tipped over, water cascading across Rosa’s lap.

“Jesus Christ, Brandon!” she shrieked, jumping to her feet. “What is wrong with you?”

He was up in an instant, his arms going around her, his voice dropping to a murmur as he pressed his face into her hair. “I am sorry, baby. I am so sorry…”

I fixed my gaze on the dark, spreading stain on the wood, commanding myself not to shatter. I would not let a single tear fall. If I cried, he would believe he had won, and I would never give him that satisfaction. I had to remain strong. Brandon was not himself; he was not thinking straight. I could still fix this, if I just pushed a little harder.

Rosa pulled away from Brandon and sat back down, straightening her ruined dress. She cleared her throat. “You must forgive Brandon for his outburst, Bianca. He becomes… agitated by trivial matters.” She offered me that same condescending smile. “It is sweet that you wish to explore. Everyone deserves a chance at happiness.”

Her words made my skin prickle. The consummate assistant, always running damage control for her boss. It seemed I was the outsider in my own marriage now.

Brandon collapsed back into his chair, his body rigid but more controlled. “You have me, Bianca. I am right here. What other happiness could you possibly need?”

“Brandon,” Rosa cautioned.

“No, Rosa, stay out of this.” His voice was brutal, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the facade splinter. “Bianca is my wife. Do you think I will just allow some random man to wander into our lives and ‘spend time’ with her? What if he is a criminal? Or a predator? You do not know him! What if he is just using her for her money?”

Rosa did not let him finish. She stood, pivoted on her heel, and started for the staircase.

“Honey, where are you going?” Brandon asked, panic seizing him as he hurried after her.

“I am collecting my things and leaving,” she stated, not bothering to look back.

“Why would you do that? Please, we can discuss this.”

She paused on the stairs, turning just enough to level a scathing glare. “Because you do not respect my opinion, Brandon. You never have. How can I possibly remain with a man who refuses to hear me?”

His voice became a plea. “Rosa, please. What do you want? Just tell me, and I will do it.”

“Let Bianca have her relationship,” she said.

Brandon went completely still, his face bleaching of color as if she had struck him. For a heartbeat, I thought he would scream. Instead, he looked at her with an unnatural calm. After a long pause, he turned to me. “Fine. You can have your boyfriend on one condition.”

“What is that?” I said.

“I meet him. Whoever this person is, I want to see him. In person.” His voice was low, but it carried a dangerous promise. “I have a business lunch tomorrow. You can bring him to meet me… thirty minutes into it.”

I had not anticipated this. I had wanted a detonation. I had wanted Brandon on his knees, begging me not to do this. I had wanted a sign that he still gave a damn. But this… I understood it perfectly. He was challenging me. He believed this was a bluff, a desperate fiction I had created to provoke him. By giving me a deadline, he was daring me to prove him wrong. The most painful part was the smug certainty in his eyes. He thought he had me trapped, that I would fold and confess there was no one.

It required every last bit of my willpower not to scream, not to let him see how deeply his gambit had cut. I kept my voice even, my expression blank. “Agreed.”

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise breaking through.

Rosa cleared her throat. She was standing by the stairs now, arms crossed, observing the entire exchange. “Brandon,” she said. “We should go.”

He did not respond immediately. He just stared at me. The quiet between us grew thick, becoming difficult to breathe. His eyes searched mine, waiting for me to break.

But I would not.

“Bianca,” he said, “I truly hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do.”

Brandon said nothing more. I could see the injury in his gaze, the rage, too, but he would never admit to either. That would mean surrendering control, and Brandon never, ever surrendered.

Rosa watched us, her impatience palpable. “Brandon,” she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We need to leave.”

Finally, Brandon pulled his gaze from me and walked to the door. His steps were measured. I stood motionless, my heart hammering against my ribs as I watched him go.

At the door, he stopped and looked back.

Our eyes met, and for a single, suspended moment, I saw the man I had fallen for, the one who had promised me a lifetime. Then, just as quickly, his face closed off, and he walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

Rosa followed, the sound of her heels a sharp punctuation on the floor. She did not grant me a single glance.

I moved to the window, watching as Brandon and Rosa approached his car. He was still looking at the house, even as he opened the passenger door for her, as if he expected me to come running out and stop them. His hand remained on the door handle for a beat too long, his entire body radiating tension.

I could not draw a full breath. The pulse in my chest was a deafening drum.

His eyes found mine one last time through the glass. Then he turned away, slid into the driver’s seat, and drove off.

**************

A presence shifts the mattress beside me. A hand strokes my hair. The sour scent of alcohol taints the air.

Consciousness returns in a slow, muddy trickle. I am trying to distinguish the remnants of a dream from reality.

Then I hear my name. “Bianca.”

That name. Only one person has ever called me that.

I twist around, my heart seizing in my chest. “Brandon? What the hell are you doing here?”