Chapter 3
Once she finished, Kyla turned and spoke sharply to the bodyguards, "Take him to the back.
"I don't want him standing around and being an eyesore at the entrance."
Two bodyguards came over, grabbing my arms from both sides.
They weren't gentle about it, like they were worried I'd try something again.
I didn't bother to struggle.
Not because I was scared, but I couldn't be bothered to make a bigger scene.
They escorted me around to the side entrance.
The side of the villa was dark, except for a single dim wall lamp in the corner, casting a faint circle of light on the ground.
The air was damp, sticking to my skin.
The bodyguard pushed me over to the wall.
"Stay put," he said.
After that, he turned and headed back inside.
His footsteps grew faint as he walked away.
I leaned against the cold wall, peering through the side window at the bright lights in the living room.
Kyla flopped back onto the couch, and Hadley slid in right next to her.
He handed her a glass of water, his fingers brushing against the back of her hand.
Kyla didn't pull away.
She took a sip, her face looking a bit softer from the side.
For a split second, it felt like someone reached into my chest and twisted something tight.
It didn't really hurt—just left me numb.
I stood hidden in the shadows, watching them bask in the light, looking for all the world like a real family.
Addison was off to the side, bent over as he spoke, his face still swollen but already back to that eager-to-please expression.
He said something, and Kyla just nodded along.
His embarrassment seemed to have been wiped away, like it had never happened.
Suddenly, Kyla's words from earlier echoed in my mind. "In this house, you are nothing."
I always thought she was just cold to me.
But now, I realized it was not just cold.
She was deciding where everyone belonged.
In her eyes, I was stuck at the very bottom.
Someone pulled the curtains shut.
The light vanished.
All that was left was the dim lamp in the corner.
A breeze drifted in from the yard, carrying the wet, earthy smell of plants and grass.
I stood there, my fingers loosening, then clenching again, almost on their own.
The taste of blood rose in my throat, but I forced it down.
Suddenly, laughter drifted out from inside the house.
It was Kyla's laugh.
Soft, but unmistakably clear.
I froze for a moment.
It'd been ages since I heard her laugh like that.
So she could laugh.
She just never laughed with me.
Suddenly, the side door swung open.
Addison leaned out, holding onto the door frame, his face still bruised, but his eyes once again full of disdain.
"Sir," he called out.
He deliberately raised his voice, as if to remind me where I stood.
"Her orders.
"If you don't apologize, you're not getting in tonight."
He paused, a cold, mocking smile creeping across his bruised face.
"And if you try to mess around, you know exactly what's waiting for you," he sneered.
I just stared at him, keeping my mouth shut.
Addison, clearly wanting to rile me up, threw in another line.
"Mr. Brown's a good guy. He even spoke up for you," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Don't push your luck."
The door slammed shut with a bang.
The only thing left in the yard was the sound of the wind.
It was late—way past midnight.
The light outside the side door flickered out, leaving just the motion sensor lamp at the far end of the yard, blinking on and off.
I stood by the wall for what felt like forever. My legs went numb, but nobody bothered to check on me.
The wind kept coming in waves, making my clothes stick to my skin, cold enough to make me shiver.
The villa was eerily quiet.
It wasn't the kind of quiet you get when everyone's asleep—it was the kind that comes from being shut out on purpose.
It was like everything happening inside had nothing to do with me anymore.
I lost track of time, just standing there, until finally, a door creaked open, not the side door—the back one.
A maid poked her head out, spotted me, and froze in surprise.
She clearly hadn't expected anyone to still be out here.
"Mr. Arnold..." Her voice was so low, it sounded like she was scared someone else might catch her talking to me.
"Ma'am said... you can go back to your room."
I straightened up, keeping quiet.
She stepped aside, then whispered, barely audible, "Please, Mr. Arnold, just don't stir things up anymore.
"She's not in a good mood tonight."
I walked past her without saying a word.
The hallway lights were blazing, but they gave off no warmth at all.
I made my way upstairs, every step echoing loudly across the empty floor.
The master bedroom door was shut tight.
The guest room sat at the very end of the corridor.
That was where I'd been living for the past two years.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The room was small, simply furnished, like something thrown together for a guest who might never come back.
There was a bed, a cabinet, and a desk. Everything was spotless, but there wasn't a single sign anyone actually lived here.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. The blood on the back of my hand had dried up, and my clothes were still streaked with dirt from the yard.
I didn't bother changing right away.
I got up and reached into the bottom of the cabinet, pulling out an old box.
It was small, the corners worn and faded from years of handling.
This was the only thing Kyla hadn't managed to throw out.
I flipped the lid open.
Inside were a handful of random keepsakes.
An old fountain pen, its cap cracked right down the side.
A watch that had stopped ticking ages ago.
And a few sheets of paper, folded up perfectly neat.
They weren't contracts or bills.
They were notes I'd scribbled down over the years—little records of my life.
Who lent me a hand, and when.
Who stepped on me, and how.
I remember every single one, clear as day.
I was not the kind of guy who forgot things easily.
Especially the bad stuff. Those stick with me the most.
The first time Kyla really left a mark on me was in our third year of marriage.
Her company hit a snag that day—a project got stuck in the approval process.
She called me, her voice tense and urgent. For the first time, there was a hint of softness in it.
She told me to go see someone.
That guy was tough to get a meeting with.
I waited outside for six hours.
It got dark, then light, then dark again.
By the time I finally got in, my clothes were a mess.
But I got it done.
On the phone, she just said one thing.
"Alright, got it," she replied, her voice flat and distant.
The next day, at a party, she introduced me to everyone with a smile, "This is my husband."
For a moment, I really thought I'd finally become a part of her world.
But later, I realized she only needed someone to play the role of "husband" when it suited her.
After that, her demands just kept piling up.
And my place in her world just kept slipping further and further down.
I put the paper back in the box, about to close it.
Suddenly, the door swung open.
Kyla stood in the doorway.
She was already in her pajamas, her hair down, but there wasn't a hint of exhaustion on her face.
Kyla shot a look at the box I was holding, her brows instantly furrowing.
"You messing with that useless stuff again?" she said, her tone sharp.
I closed the box and put it back in the cabinet.
"Couldn't sleep," I replied.
She walked in and stood right in the middle of the room, like she was sizing up the place.
"That's it for today.
"Don't give me any more trouble," she added, making it clear she wasn't in the mood for arguments.