While My Husband Cheated I Married His Powerful Brother novel Chapter 9

9 Chapter 9 My Wife

Chapter 9 My Wife

The first day, she screamed.

She screamed until her throat was raw. She beat her fists against the door until her knuckles bled. No one came. The walls were thick, and no one

would hear her scream.

The second day, she stopped screaming.

She sat on the floor with her back against the wall and her knees drawn up to her chest and she tried to remember how to breathe. She was thirsty. So thirsty. Her tongue felt like sandpaper. Her lips were cracked.

She thought about the baby.

Don’t let me lose this one, she whispered. Please. Don’t let me lose this one

too.

She did not know who she was talking to. God. The universe. Her mother. No one answered.

The third day, she stopped thinking.

Her consciousness came in waves. She would be awake for a few minutes,

then drift into something that was not quite sleep and not quite waking. Time lost its shape. The room spun around her. She saw things that were not there. Her mother’s face. The face of the baby she had lost. Dorian’s

gray eyes.

She heard the lock click.

She thought she was dreaming.

Hands grabbed her arms. Dragged her across the floor. Her hip scraped against the doorframe. She tried to open her eyes. The light was too bright. She closed them again.

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She was in the living room. She knew this because the floor was different. Carpet instead of wood which was softer. She felt someone’s hands on her, pulling her upright. She tried to push them away. Her arms would not work.

“Look at you.”

Xiomara’s voice. Close to her ear.

“Three days without food and you’re already half dead. Pathetic

Veyra forced her eyes open. Xiomara was standing over her. She was

wearing a silk robe. Her hair was perfect. Her nails were the same deep red as on the plane.

“You think you can take pictures of me?” Xiomara said. “You think you can

record me?”

She slapped Veyra across the face.

Veyra’s head snapped to the side. The pain was dull, distant, like it was happening to someone else.

“I wish you had died so that Caspian will be mine alone.”

Another slap on the other cheek.

Veyra tried to speak. Nothing came out.

Xiomara grabbed her hand. The one with the cane. She pressed her heel

into the back of it. The heel was thin and sharp. It ground into the skin, into the muscle and into the bone.

Veyra screamed.

She tried to pull away. Xiomara pressed harder. The pain was no longer dull. It was bright and hot and it filled her entire body.

“Stop,” Veyra gasped. “Please-”

“Please?” Xiomara leaned closer. Her breath smelled like wine. “That’s not

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what you said on the plane. On the plane, you were so brave. Slapping me. Pouring champagne on me. Where’s that woman now?”

Veyra tried to hit her. Her arm would not cooperate. She was too weak. Too tired. Too hungry.

Xiomara grabbed her hair. Wrapped it around her fist. Pulled her head back.

“You know what I think?” Xiomara said. “I think you’re a waste of space. I think Caspian should have left you years ago.”

She raised her foot. Her bare foot, but the heel was still on. The heel was pointed directly at Veyra’s stomach.

Veyra’s body moved before her brain caught up. She curled around her belly. Her arms wrapped around herself. Her back arched to protect the small, fragile thing growing inside her.

Not this one, she thought. Not this one too.

Xiomara’s foot came down.

*

*

The front door exploded inward.

That was the only word for it. Exploded. The wood splintered. The lock flew across the room. The door swung open so hard it hit the wall and bounced back.

Dorian stood in the doorway.

He was not the man from the courthouse. That man had been controlled

and cold. This man was something else. His eyes were wild. His chest was heaving. His hands were fists at his sides.

Behind him, five men in dark suits poured into the apartment. Bodyguards.

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Their faces were hard and empty.

Xiomara’s foot froze in mid-air.

Dorian crossed the room in three strides. He grabbed Xiomara by the arm and threw her away from Veyra like she weighed nothing. Xiomara crashed

into the coffee table. Glass shattered. She screamed.

Dorian did not look at her.

He dropped to his knees beside Veyra. His hands hovered over her, not touching, like he was afraid she would break.

“Veyra.”

His voice was rough and shaken. She had never heard him sound like that.

“I’m okay,” she tried to say. It came out as a whisper. She was not okay. She was bleeding from her hand. Her ankle was swollen to twice its size. Her lip was split. There were bruises on her face and her arms and her ribs.

But her belly was still round and soft and safe.

Dorian took off his coat. It was warm and it smelled like him. Cedar and

something else. Something clean. He wrapped it around her shoulders. His hands were steady now, so gentle.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “You’re safe.”

Xiomara was crying as she tried to get up. Real tears or fake tears, Veyra could not tell. She did not care.

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