Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 160

Chapter 160

Malcom’s POV

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The polished oak of the conference table stretched out like a vast, frozen lake. Around it, the Tyrone family sat in a display of expensive fabrics and practiced smiles.

Kennedy sat at the head, his presence filling the room. He was helding court, detailing a planned excursion to a sprawling estate in the countryside-a retreat designed for the elite, far from the prying eyes of the common public.

I sat quietly, watching the scene unfold. To my left, my brothers-in-law were nodding eagerly, tossing out ideas for the festivities with the desperate energy of men trying to prove their worth.

My wife, Tabitha, Kennedy’s oldest and favorite daughter, sat by his side. She was the jewel of his crown because she was the only one who had never truly pushed back.

She moved through life according to his script, a perfect reflection of the Tyrone legacy.

In another life, I dreamed of being an architect. I wanted to design structures that would stand for centuries, empires made of stone and vision.

But then I met Tabitha. I fell for her with a helplessness that made my own ambitions feel like a secondary thought.

To have her, I had to become what Kennedy wanted. Every son-in-law in this family has had to bend his will until it snapped.

Coming from a background of modest means, I had to craft a persona-a fake history of wealth-just to be tolerated.

When Kennedy eventually unearthed the truth, he demanded a divorce. He wanted me erased.

But Tabitha, in a rare moment of defiance, apologized for my “shortcomings” and begged for my stay.

He accepted, but at a steep price. I became an apprentice in the art of sycophancy. I spent decades swallowing my pride to stay on his good side.

Tradition used to dictate that a woman’s worth was measured by the sons she produced. In older, less informed times, a woman was deemed barren or “broken” if she didn’t provide a male heir.

But Kennedy was too smart for ancient superstitions. He understood the biology, he knew that the father’s chromosomes determined the child’s gender.

With a cruel brilliance, he had flipped the script. In the Tyrone dynasty, if a man could not produce a man, he wasnt just unlucky; he was deemed biologically and spiritually weak.

Kennedy made it a rule: no boy, no legacy. It turned the men of the family into nervous wrecks, looking at their own children not as daughters to be loved, but as evidence of their failure to secure the Tyrone bloodline.

We were like knights married to queens, or perhaps more accurately, servants married into a royal house.

We were required to shed our original surnames, taking on the Tyrone name as if our own lineages were nothing but static

We were forced to love hockey, to live hockey, and to breathe the sport until it became our entire identity.

Over the years, my love for Tabitha had drifted away. I buried the loss of that feeling deep inside, keeping the peace so our children could have a complete family.

I knew the moment I opted for a divorce, Kennedy would hunte. I stayed alive for my children by pretending to love her day by day.

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Chapter 160

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Tabitha is a good woman, truly, but when love is suffocated by shadow of a tyrant, it turns into something stagnant and unrecognizable.

The meeting finally wound down. My sisters-in-law and their hands stood up, chattering about guest lists and vintage wines as they filtered out of the room.

I remained seated.

Kennedy didn’t look up immediately. He took a ‘slow sip from hi crystal tumbler, the ice clinking softly against the glass.

He set the cup down with a deliberate thud that signaled the end of the public performance.

Silence filled the space between us, heavy and thick.

Finally, he looked up through his gray lashes, his eyes fixed on me with a piercing clarity.

“The room is empty, Malcolm,” he said, his voice carrying that poetic, measured cadence the wealthy use to mask their intentions.

“Yet you remain anchored to your chair as if you’re waiting for a clifferent set of instructions. What is it you’re seeking from

me?”

I cleared my throat and met his gaze. I didn’t let my eyes drop. want to know the plan, Kennedy.”

Kennedy tilted his head, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He let out a dry, short chuckle.

“Ah. You always were the observant one. How did you figure out was orchestrating something, Malcolm?”

“Because you don’t host farm-land retreats for the sake of fresh air,” I replied.

I had a gut feeling that had been brewing for weeks.

My son had been gone since the wedding with the Walters fell apart, and I knew Kennedy wouldn’t let that humiliation slide.

He was planning something dangerous, something designed to lure Aaron back into the fold or crush him entirely.

This upcoming party was too convenient. It was fishy.

Kennedy gave a non-committal hum. I felt a surge of irritation and rolled my eyes, a gesture so blatant that Kennedy’s br shot up in surprise.

Usually, I would have shrunk back. Usually, I would have apologized. But the fear that had dictated my life for twenty years was being replaced by a fierce, paternal protection.

I wasn’t scared of him anymore. If I had to be the one to stand between my son and this old man’s ambition, I would do it.

I stood up, my chair scraping against the floor. I leaned over the table, my voice dropping to a sharp, steady tone.

“I am warning you, Father. If anything happens to my son-if you use this event to trap him or hurt him-I will make sure you experience a departure from this world that is far worse than anything you’ve ever imagined.”

I could see the genuine shock in his mismatched eyes. His jaw clenched, but he didn’t speak

He just watched me, perhaps seeing me for the first time in years

I didn’t wait for a rebuttal. I turned and walked out, my heart hammering a steady beat against my ribs.

I made my way to our private wing and entered the bedroom. Tabitha was seated at her vanity, her fingers tracing a long strand of pearls.

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Chapter 160

Her mother had given them to her to share with her sisters for the retreat.

She looked like a portrait of refined grace, but all I saw was the ge we lived in.

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“Hey honey,” she said softly, her eyes meeting mine in the mirro “I noticed you stayed behind after everyone left. Is there something wrong? You look… different.”

I didn’t answer. I strode to the closet, pulled out a fresh towel, and began unbuttoning my shirt.

My movements were brisk, fueled by a lingering adrenaline.

“Malcolm?” she asked, turning around in her chair. “Talk to me. What happened in there?”

I ignored her again, stepping out of my shoes. The silence was my only weapon, a way to keep the world at bay.

“Malcolm, please,” she persisted, her voice rising slightly. “Why are you being like this? We have an event to prepare father is expecting-”

for. My

“I don’t care what your father is expecting, Tabitha,” I snapped, finally looking at her. The words felt like they were breaking through a dam.

She flinched, her hand flying to her throat, clutching the pearls.

“How can you say that? He’s done everything for us. He gave youn name. He gave you a life.”

“He gave me a leash,” I countered. “And I’m tired of wearing it.”

I didn’t stay to watch her cry. I turned and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind me.

I turned on the shower, the sound of the water masking the muffled sounds of the bedroom.

Standing there, I realized how much of a coward I had been.

For years, I had bent my knee to Kennedy Tyrone, sacrificing my dreams, my identity, and eventually my love, all for the sake of a comfortable cage.

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