Chapter Four

BRENT'S POV

I sat at the bar in the living room, drinking shot after shot, still unable to process what had happened the past few hours. My mind was a whirlwind, tangled up in thoughts I couldn’t seem to unravel.

But one thought remained dominant. Priscilla. The woman I’d given everything to. The woman that betrayed me.

I tossed back the drink, feeling the burn in my throat, but it did little to numb the ache in my chest.

How could she? How could she do this to me after everything we’d been through, after everything I’d sacrificed for her? I’d given up so much, bent over backward to make our marriage work, only to be blindsided by her infidelity. It didn’t make sense, none of it did. But the images of her with another man, the damning evidence that I had seen—they all painted a picture I couldn’t ignore.

But why, Priscilla? Why would you do this? Had there been a point that I neglected her and her needs?

No, I doubted it. I had always paid adequate attention to her, even in the early days of our marriage when feelings hadn't been involved, I had made sure to give her everything she wanted. Then why had she betrayed me? Why had she cheated on me with not just any man, but someone who had cruelly broken her heart before?

The door creaked open, and I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Pamela’s perfume wafted into the room before she did, sweet and cloying. I felt her presence beside me, but I didn’t look at her. I wasn't in the mood for company.

“Brent,” she purred, sliding onto the stool next to me, “you need to forget about her. She’s not worth this. Not worth you.”

“Pamela, don’t,” I warned, my voice low, a thread of anger seeping through.

She flinched, clearly not expecting my reaction. “What’s the matter with you?” she demanded, her tone shifting, a hint of irritation creeping in. “Why are you so hung up on her? She’s probably with someone else right now, laughing at how easily she fooled you.”

Her words sliced through me like a knife, but I refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how deep they cut. Instead, I clenched my jaw and stared at the glass in front of me, wishing I could drown out her voice along with the pain. But her words echoed in my mind, pulling me back into the torment I’d been trying so hard to escape.

Priscilla’s face flashed before me—those eyes that always held so much warmth, that smile that could light up the darkest room. I remembered how she’d looked at me that day, the day I’d confronted her. There was something in her eyes, something I hadn’t been able to place at the time. Pain, maybe. Desperation. But I’d been too angry to care, too furious to listen.

She had tried to explain, but I didn’t let her. I wouldn’t let her. I’d been so sure, so damn sure that she had betrayed me. Every word she said, every tear that fell—it all seemed like a ploy, a desperate attempt to cover her tracks. So, I shut her out. I shut down any possibility that there was another side to the story. And I told her to leave, to get out of my life.

Now, sitting here with nothing but regret to keep me company, I wondered if I’d been wrong. Had I missed something? Had there been a truth I hadn’t wanted to see?

Pamela’s hand on my arm jolted me back to the present. “Brent, she’s gone. You need to move on,” she whispered, leaning closer.

I jerked my arm away, standing up so fast that the stool nearly toppled over. “Move on?” I snapped, my voice a harsh growl. “It's not that easy, Pamela. It's not easy to move on from the woman you love, heart, body, and soul.”

Or why did she cheat on you?

“Yeah, but you can't keep on crying for her. She made her decisions and moved on. You should too.”

Then she leaned forward, baring her naked breasts to me through the flimsy unbuttoned top she wore. She slowly ran her finger down through my opened shirt and down my chest.

“Why don't I,” she began, lips slowly circling my ear, “help you forget?”

I jerked back suddenly and she stumbled backward violently. Surprise and shock marrying her face.

“I don't want to hurt you, Pamela,” I warned, not in the mood for her games. “Leave!”

As soon as she was gone, the anger drained out of me, leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake. I sank back onto the stool, running a hand through my hair, my mind spinning.

Priscilla. God, what had I done?

I couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in—our wedding day, the way she’d looked at me as if I were her entire world; the nights we’d stayed up talking about our future; the way she’d always known how to calm me down when life got too overwhelming. I had thrown all of that away. For what? For something I wasn't now sure of? I still didn't know how those pictures came to be, or who sent it and why, but I had shut her down, letting my ego get the better of me.

The thought of her with someone else, the possibility that she was out there with another man—it was unbearable. But even more unbearable was the realization that I might have lost her for good. And it was my fault.

I couldn’t let that be the end of our story. I wouldn’t.

Grabbing my phone, I called for my butler. “James,” I said when he answered, my voice steady with resolve I hadn’t felt in weeks. “I need you to find her. Find Priscilla. And bring her back.”

Because if there was any chance—any chance at all—that I could fix this, I had to take it. I couldn’t lose her. Not like this. Not when I was starting to see just how much she meant to me.