Chapter 5

"Enough!" Andrew snapped, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment as he grabbed my wrist. "I never thought of you that way!"

"Maybe you didn't think it," I said, letting him hold me without resisting, "but that's exactly what you did."

We stood there, locked in a silent standoff.

His hand was burning, grip so tight my bones ached.

He used to be so careful with me, afraid he'd hurt me.

Look at us now.

Now, all I could see in his eyes was the fury of being exposed.

"Emily." He took a breath, reining himself in. "Let's just stop. I promise—she won't come near you, and she won't interfere with us. Just... let it go. Act like it never happened."

I looked into his eyes.

Once, those eyes held only me.

Now, all I saw was struggle, irritation, and cold calculation—gone was any hint of the tenderness that used to be there.

"Andrew," I said, "if I had a man set up in an apartment somewhere, and told you he was just my little pet—how would you feel?"

He jolted, caught off guard.

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Because men and women aren't the same!" he burst out. "I'm a man, Emily! Everyone in this industry has affairs. I stayed faithful to you for seven years—do you know how rare that is? What more do you want?"

I watched him quietly, saying nothing.

After a whole minute, I gently pulled my hand away.

"I understand now," I said.

"Understand what?"

"Your whole logic," I said, walking over to the window and gazing out into the dark night. "When a man cheats, he's got charm. When a woman does, she's trash.

"When a man keeps a mistress, he's powerful. When a woman has a secret lover, she's shameless. You want me to be like every other wife—turn a blind eye, maybe even help you cover it up."

I turned around to face him.

"But Andrew, you seem to have forgotten something.

"I didn't marry you because you were some big shot in the industry, or because of your family's name.

"I married you because of a boy who stood outside the library with red ears, barely able to get the words out—'Will you be my girlfriend?'

"I married you because of the Andrew who swore we'd be together forever, just the two of us.

"But that Andrew is gone.

"He disappeared the moment you cheated on me."

Andrew stood there, motionless.

The overhead light cast deep shadows across his face.

For a brief moment, I caught a flicker of pain in his eyes.

But it was quickly masked by his familiar pride.

"So." His voice went ice-cold. "You're really going to blow this family apart over this?"

"I didn't blow anything apart. You did."

He laughed—cold and unfamiliar.

"Fine, Emily. Stay on your high horse. But let me be very clear: divorce is not happening. You're a Lawson. You'll be a Lawson until the day you die. And as for the women in my life—"

He paused, making sure every word landed. "You'll learn to accept it, whether you like it or not."

With that, he turned and walked away.

When he reached the door, he stopped, with his back to me.

"Just so you know, I'm bringing her home for dinner tomorrow night."

Every muscle in my body went rigid.

"What did you just say?"

Andrew turned back, his gaze sharp with a ruthless challenge. "I said, I'm bringing her home so you can meet her. Didn't you want to know what she's like? Well, you'll get to see for yourself."

"Andrew, are you out of your mind?"

"No." His voice was calm. "I just want you to understand who actually runs this house. And you need to let go of these little fantasies of yours."

"If you bring her through that door, I will throw her out myself."

"Just try it," he smirked. "Let's see whose word counts for more around here—yours or mine."

The door slammed shut with a bang.

The impact made the picture frames on the wall rattle.

I stood frozen in place, my whole body going cold.

Not anger. Not sadness.

Just a chill that cut right through my bones.

Turns out people can change in the blink of an eye.

Seven years of love, and it couldn't survive one moment of wanting something new.

Turns out, I wasn't the woman he loved anymore. I was a wife who needed to be put in her place.

I sat back down in the chair, moving slowly.

My hands were shaking.

I forced them still, opened the laptop, and focused on the documents.

I had to keep it together.

David was right—ten days, at most.

For the next ten days, I had to stay strong—no matter what.