Chapter Three
Sloane's POV
Alaric pressed his lips together, his tone suddenly softening. "Strange, hearing you talk now doesn't seem to bother me at all." He looked at me, brow furrowed. "Sloane, what's gotten into you lately? Constantly talking about divorce—is there someone else?"
Before I could answer, Freya was already moving toward me, reaching out her hand, concern flooding her face. "Sloane, don't get upset, let's sit down and talk—"
Halfway through her sentence, her body lurched backward and she fell to the floor with a thud. The whole movement was clean and practiced, like choreographed staging.
"I'm sorry... it's my fault, I made you angry..." Freya clutched her wrist, her voice trembling, eyes reddening. "I shouldn't have come."
I hadn't touched a single finger on her.
"How could you push Freya!" Poppy shrieked, rushing over and shoving both hands against my waist. I stumbled backward, my lower back slamming hard into the dining table corner. Dull pain exploded through me, my vision going black. I bit down, making no sound—eight years of trained instinct.
Alaric was already kneeling beside Freya, one hand cradling her wrist, the other brushing hair from her forehead. Poppy crouched on the other side, gently blowing on Freya's palm.
"It's all my fault," Freya said, looking up with reddened eyes. "I accidentally angered Sloane. Don't blame her..."
Alaric stood up, his gaze cold when it landed on me. "You won't cook? Fine. I'll take Freya and Poppy out to eat." He grabbed his car keys without looking back. "Don't mention divorce again. You stay home and think about your behavior tonight."
The three of them headed for the door with laughter and conversation, Poppy clinging to Freya, Alaric protective at their side—looking exactly like a real family going out to dinner.
The door closed. I sat for a long time in front of the table full of cold food before finally picking up my phone and calling a lawyer.
"Hello, I'd like to consult about divorce proceedings."
After hanging up, I started packing. Digging through the back of the closet, I found an old shoebox—inside was a family portrait Poppy had drawn in crayon when she was five. She'd drawn me tallest and biggest, with a crown on my head, and beside it in wobbly letters: "Mom is my queen." That year she'd had a fever of 103 degrees, clinging to me all night, deliriously calling for mommy. I didn't know when that little girl who used to wrap her arms around my neck had transformed into what I saw today.
My phone buzzed. Freya had posted something new—a photo of the three of them at a restaurant, Poppy sitting between Alaric and Freya, beaming. The caption: "Some bonds don't need a title. ❤️"
The comment section was already blowing up.
"Wow, what a beautiful family! You guys look perfect together!"
"Your daughter is so lucky to have such a loving mom and dad!"
I opened the comment box and typed: "Congratulations on your promotion from homewrecker to stepmom, cousin! Though let's be honest—you've always preferred playing with other women's toys. 😘"
Less than half an hour later, the front door slammed open. Alaric strode in, his face dark, Poppy right behind him.
"Sloane, what the hell did you mean by that comment? Do you know how upset Freya was when she saw it?"
"Did I say anything wrong?" I met his gaze calmly. "If you can do it, don't be afraid of people talking about it."
A sharp whoosh cut through the air. Half my face swelled and went numb, my ear ringing. Before I could steady myself, a mug smashed into my temple—Poppy stood two steps away, her hand still raised from throwing it.
"You bullied Freya, so I'm making you pay!"
The ceramic shards sliced my skin, blood beading along my brow bone, sliding into my eye, painting my vision a blurred red. A flash of panic crossed Alaric's eyes, but quickly, he suppressed that flicker of unease.
"You came to me first," his voice was low and certain. "My hearing was damaged, everyone avoided me, but you stayed. Since you chose me, you should have accepted the consequences."
"Besides, think of everything Freya's done for you over the years. She arranged all four surgeries. She's done Poppy's hearing tests for free every year. Instead of being grateful, you target her constantly. No wonder the child isn't close to you."
He pulled out the medicine kit to clean my wound. I turned my head away, avoiding his hand. "Don't."
He paused, softening his voice. "I'll keep my distance from Freya. The three of us will have a good life together, okay?"
I didn't answer. My gaze fell on his open shirt collar—below his collarbone, a dark red lip print he hadn't wiped off yet. I smiled coldly.
If this were before I discovered the truth, perhaps I would have been fooled by these words. But now every promise was just a new layer of lies covering the old ones. Eight years of deception, and he still hadn't confessed a single word. I would never believe him again.
Before the lawyer sent over the divorce papers, I decided to stay in this house temporarily.
Early the next morning, Alaric wore a navy suit I'd never seen before, carefully styling his hair in the mirror.
"Freya has a medical awards ceremony today. I'm going to show my support."
He walked out of the bedroom and stood at the dining table for a few seconds. The table was empty.
"...Where's breakfast?"
"Make it yourself, or buy something." I didn't look up. "I'm not a servant."
He opened his mouth but ultimately said nothing, slamming the door as he left with Poppy. The house fell quiet.
My phone suddenly rang, the jewelry store's number on the screen.
"Hello, Ms. Reed, sorry to disturb you. The sapphire jewelry set you brought in for cleaning and restoration—the necklace and earrings—was picked up by your husband this morning."
My heart clenched sharply.
"He said you asked him to collect them, but you specifically instructed us that this was your mother's heirloom and could only be released to you personally, so we wanted to confirm..."
"I understand. Thank you." I hung up.
Of course I knew what he was going to do with that jewelry—my mother's heirloom would be draped on Freya tonight, making her shine at the awards ceremony. How ironic.
