Four

Too many strange things had already unfolded that night, and I needed to be sure I’d heard Byron correctly. My gaze locked onto his, searching for any sign of a cruel joke or hidden punishment waiting for me in his room.

"Go on," he said, that same cold, calculating smile creeping across his lips.

A tight knot formed in my throat, and my mind spun with memories of all his betrayals. I didn’t want to go to his room. I didn’t want him near me.

Only a few hours ago, this man stood towering over me, spewing hurtful words, laughing as I desperately begged him to give our marriage one last chance.

"Why would I want to be with someone like you?" he had sneered. "You’re ugly, shapeless, and stupid. Your whole family sucks my generosity dry. Even you wouldn’t choose yourself to be Luna."

I had sobbed at his feet, and he had pushed me away in disgust. Now, he expected me to join him in his room.

Doubt washed over me. There wasn’t an ounce of sincerity in his voice or warmth in his offer. Byron never acted out of kindness. I wasn’t naive enough to believe his sudden change of heart wasn’t just another twisted game.

"What are you waiting for?" a mocking smirk playing on his lips. "Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted? For us to be one big happy family—me, you, and Val?"

I hesitated as my heart hammered in my chest. "But... you told your parents we were divorcing. What’s with the sudden change of heart?"

He shrugged like it was nothing as if my life meant nothing. "Maybe I’ve been too harsh. Perhaps I’m doing it for Valen. I don’t want him growing up in a broken home."

I nearly laughed out loud. Too harsh? That barely scratched the surface. My mind replayed the last time he slapped me, the sting on my cheek was fresh in my memory. I ran to my parents with tears streaming down my face. My greedy mother had patted my back with all the warmth of an iceberg. No comfort, no empathy. Just a pat, as if she were swatting away an annoying fly.

"Sweetheart, at least your husband doesn’t rape you. Do you know how much worse it could be? He slapped you because you disobeyed him by entering his room uninvited. If you had respected his wishes, it wouldn’t have happened."

My dad had snapped, "Yolanda, stop it. Our daughter is in pain. She doesn’t need this from you right now."

They’d argued back and forth, but in the end, they both urged me to return. After all, who could accuse a Campbell of anything?

Byron’s lips brushed my cheek, but my stomach turned with revulsion.

"I’m sorry," I muttered, pulling away from his touch as he reached for my chin. “I can't go to your room.”

He stayed silent for a bit. Then he narrowed his gaze and watched me squirm under his scrutiny.

"Why not?"

"I... I’m on my period," I lied. He’d catch me in the lie if we were a normal couple, but we were far from normal. He hadn’t seen my body in years, so I knew I could get away with it.

He nodded, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "Fine."

Relief washed over me. I spun on my heel and hurried to my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it to exhale.

That was close.

My eyes scanned the dimly lit room as my thoughts raced. Why now? Why was Byron suddenly deciding not to divorce me?

---

We sat around the breakfast table the following day, trying to mimic a normal family. Valen was too young to notice his mother's trauma. Byron was engrossed in his iPad. Sundays were always the same—Byron would head to the golf club after breakfast, and I’d spend the rest of the day with Valen.

But today, Valen was unusually picky with his food. My head throbbed with a dull ache, and I wasn’t in the mood to coax him.

"Sweetheart, you need to eat your fish to get strong," I murmured, pushing the plate closer to him. "You can’t live on cookies."

"Strong like Daddy?" Valen asked, his innocent eyes wide as he poked at his food.

"Yes, strong like Daddy," I said softly, even though I wasn't in the mood to play. Byron looked up from his iPad and smiled, but I couldn’t return it.

There were times—foolish, naive times—when I had convinced myself that maybe, just maybe, Byron would love me again.

Noticing my lack of a smile, his eyes tightened briefly before returning to the screen before him.

"Yes, son," Byron said, still not looking up. "You’ll be stronger and better than your daddy. I’ll make sure of that."

Valen grinned, and I finished helping him with his meal; even though his nanny would normally do it, I liked to help out. It gave me something to do. I was relieved when Byron finally stood up and announced he was heading out.

"Are you going to your parents' house today?" I asked casually, hoping to keep the conversation light.

Byron shot me a sharp look. "Why? Are you planning my schedule now?"

"No, I just... wanted to ask about your brother. Is he back to stay?"

His reaction was instant. He stiffened, eyes narrowing as if I had crossed a forbidden line. "Why are you asking me about him? Are you jobless that all you do is gossip?"

Oh shit.

His voice had turned cold, and the air in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

"I... I didn’t mean anything by it, I was just—"

Before I could finish, Byron lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair. Pain shot through my scalp as he yanked me closer, his eyes blazing with fury.

"If I ever hear his name come out of your mouth again," he snarled, pulling harder until tears stung my eyes, "I will make sure you never see Valen again. Do you understand?"

"Please," I whimpered, clutching his wrist as the throbbing in my head intensified.

Byron shoved me hard against the wall, his hand still fisted in my hair. "This is your last warning. Never mention his name again, or I’ll destroy everything you love."

Tears slipped down my cheeks as he released me, storming out of the house without another word. My scalp ached, and I slumped against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Mommy, where are you?" Valen’s voice echoed from the living room, and I wiped my tears quickly, forcing myself to stand.

I couldn’t let him see me like this.

"Coming, baby," I called out, my voice trembling as I stepped away from the wall, determined to hide the evidence of my pain from my little boy.