Even though Silas told her to relax, the mere thought of her husband sent a dark, possessive spike of irritation straight through his chest.
It was New Year's Eve. Her mother was undergoing a massive, life-threatening surgery. And where was the guy? Instead of standing right beside her, holding her up through the nightmare, he had just vanished, leaving her to face the terror completely alone. Silas seriously wanted to track the bastard down and rearrange his face to see if he was even a real man.
Yet, despite being absolute garbage, Julian Sinclair still possessed the title of her husband. He held the legal right to touch her, to claim her, to stand by her side in the eyes of the world. It made Silas's blood boil. It was violently unfair.
"Where is he?" Silas demanded, dropping all pretense. "On a night like this, why the hell isn't he here with you?"
"Who?" Willow blinked, caught off guard by the sudden hostility.
"That Sinclair guy."
"Oh." Julian. Willow immediately understood, but she was entirely exhausted by the topic. She didn't want Silas's perfect night ruined by her nightmare of a marriage, so she grabbed the easiest excuse. "He had some business to handle. He's busy."
"Busy?" Silas scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disgust on her behalf. "No matter how demanding the job is, he can't spare a single day? Especially on New Year's Eve? If he's going to occupy the role of your husband, he needs to do his damn job. And if he's too incompetent to do it, he should admit he's worthless and get the hell out of your way."
Willow stared at him. She had never heard him speak like this. It was incredibly blunt, practically borderline aggressive, but coming from Silas Thorne, it carried a dangerously attractive, protective edge.
She chewed on her bottom lip, debating whether to just rip the band-aid off and tell him the truth about the divorce. There was no point in letting him waste his energy being furious at Julian.

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