Matt’s accusation echoed, the words fitting for how I had felt in front of that public defender. I’d been forced to tell him the intimate details of my relationship with William and had seen the judgment flicker across the man’s craggy face. I’d hotly contested his questions about hiring someone to kill Matt and could tell he didn’t believe me.
“Oh, I called Mitchell,” Matt sneered. “I called Mitchell and made it very clear where his loyalties should lie.”
My cheeks burned at the realization that Matt was the reason the public defender had been assigned to me. And I had believed in him the entire time in the station. Assumed, however naively, that he had been back at home, believing in me.
I let out an awkward laugh and tried to understand where all this had gone so wrong. “But ... it’s all crap, Matt. I didn’t hire someone to kill you. YouknowI didn’t do that.”
“So, I’m unlucky?” He lifted his arms out to each side, and I couldn’t believe I was being subjected to these accusations. I should be getting a hot shower right now. “I guess we justhappenedto be missing the screws on the railing I like to lean against every morning? I guess the liqueur you bought specifically for Cat justhappenedto contain antifreeze? I guess, out of all of the houses in this town, some random psychopath happened to come into ours, without breaking a single window or lock, and stick a gun in my mouth?”
“You can’t be serious,” I sputtered.
“Cat went to thehospital, Neena. I was one misfire away from death. Was it worth killing both of us for William?”
God, I hated that woman. Screw the shooter coming after my husband. He should have entered that diamond-encrusted mausoleum and shot her pretty little face right between the eyes. Then we’d be in our home, happy as pigs in crap, and it’d betheirlife being picked apart right now.
“You’re lucky that Cat kept the police from investigating that limoncello. Weprotectedyou,” he spat out.
“Were you protecting me when you told them to look in the safe? Did you enjoy stressing me out, holding that over my head?” I could feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, my very thin thread of self-control frayed to breaking. “I fainted, Matt. Ifaintedwhen I thought that they were going to find my will. Why put me through that?”
“Oh, please.” He shook his head at me. “You’d already removed it. Probably destroyed it. What was there for you to faint over?”
I froze at the implication of his words. “I didn’t remove it, Matt. I—”
“I spoke to Cat this morning, and we decided—”
“We decided? Where did you talk to Cat? Did you see her? Was she here?” He knew the rules. I’d been very clear for the two decades of our relationship and drawn his lines in bloody red paint. Having a woman in our house, alone with my husband, was a football field outside those lines,and he knew it.
“You are not going jealous psycho on me right now.” He held up his hand, and I wanted to grab it by the wrist, flip that switch by the sink, and shove it down the garbage disposal. “What matters is that she agreed not to mention the poisoning to the detective or share the broken railing with them.”
“Oh, howkindof her,” I sneered. “So generous. I should write her a freaking thank-you card. You believe that act? She probably poisoned herself.”
“Sit down, Neena.”
Had he ever said my name in such a cold way? He pointed to a stool. “I’m going to explain this to you one time, and I swear on my life, if you say one word before I finish, I’m going to slap the shit out of you.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it, stunned at the stranger standing before me and the words he’d just growled at me. Stunned at how, if he had only shown this side of himself earlier, I might have actually respected him.Stayed loyalto him. I sat.
“I’m having Mitchell’s office prepare divorce papers. I’ll file on Monday.”
“You’re doingwhat?” The words exploded out of me as my panic flared.
The impact of his hand threw me backward, the stool tipping. I scrambled to grab the edge of the counter and failed, the expensive three-peg stool leaning to one side, the soles of my shoes sliding along the tile as stars dotted my vision.
He hit me.Matt hadhitme.
If he had pulled up his shirt and produced a third nipple, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.
I tugged at the edge of the counter and found my footing, my legs weak as I struggled to stand, my vision clearing. Matt stood across from me, still and silent, and stared at me as if I were a stranger.Me.
He pointed to the stool, which lay on its side, the wood knocking on the floor as it rocked a little in place. “Sit back down. Shut up. If you speak again, I’ll hit you again.”
It was pure torture to keep my mouth closed.What was he thinking?My cheekbone throbbed. I’d have a bruise. How would we explainthatto the police?
I lifted the stool and righted it. I moved dully to sit atop it, my hands sweating as I gripped the counter and vowed to myself to stay silent. In my head, a slow-motion picture of Cat Winthorpe played. Laughing at my arrest. Feeding carbs and sugar to William in a sexy negligee and making him fall back in love with her. I was the one who was supposed to win this game.Me.
Matt continued as if all were fine, as if he hadn’t just abused me. “You will not contest the divorce and will give me all the assets of our marriage, including my company.” He looked at me, making sure that I was following his ridiculous monologue.
He might be saying this now, but he couldn’t mean it. Through everything, Matt was my rock. The only one who loved me through my flaws. The only one who looked at me as if I had value. The one who had provided for me since the moment I’d lost my father. That emotional security had been the only constant in my life for the last two decades. It had been the foundation I had depended on when I had stepped out on him. His love for me ... it wasn’t going anywhere. It couldn’t go anywhere. Him leaving me was never a piece of this plan.