Page 93 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

“Mum, what’s wrong?” I ask, rushing inside and dropping to my haunches before her.

I watch as her mask falls into place and she straightens her spine.

I can’t imagine what her life has been like being married to a man like Johnathon Eaton. They’ve been together all their adult lives. He is all she’s ever known. But she’s not stupid. She knows he’s not a good man.

Not that she’s ever said a bad word about him.

Through everything, she has stood by his side and supported him no matter what.I’m not sure if I’m impressed with her tenacity or horrified by her lack of desire for a better life.

Surely, this isn’t what she always imagined for herself.

Yes, she has the money, the house, the luxury holidays, the cars and the designer labels.But all of that is bullshit when it comes in exchange for spending your life with a cold, ruthless cunt like my father.

“What has he done this time?” I ask, trying a different tack.

We’ve never had an open conversation about him. I’ve never been brave enough to even attempt it for fear of what she might be hiding.

I know how he treats me, and I can’t only imagine how he’s treated her behind closed doors over the years. The thought turns my blood to ice.

“Oh, Elliot,” she soothes, attempting to brush over the cracks.

I study her, wondering just how many times she’s done that over the years.

On the face of it, the Eaton family are everything you’d expect them to be.

United. Happy. The portrait of perfection.

But the truth is very different.

We’re so far from perfect it’s laughable.

“I’m just being silly.”

“No,” I snap, a little harsher than intended, making her rear back.

I push to my feet unable to remain still and begin pacing back and forth in front of her.“If you’re crying over something then it’s not nothing,” I spit. “If it upsets you, no matter how little it may seem to someone else, then it is not nothing.”

She stares at me with wide, glassy eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish as she tries to find a response.“Th-thank you,” she finally settles on.

I frown, confused about what she’s thanking me for.

She shakes her head, brushing the comment under the carpet.“Come and sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

I pause, unable to deny her before dropping down in the armchair opposite her. Resting my elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands.

“What’s wrong, Elliot?” she asks, concern laced through her voice.

Glancing up, I hold her eyes.“Why do you stay?” I ask, making her frown.

“Stay?” she repeats.

“Here. With him?”

Her chin drops but no words spill free.

Eventually, after a second, she says, “He is my husband. This…” she says, lifting her arm from her lap and gesturing to the house. “It’s my home. It’s where I’ve built my life. Our lives.”

The fact she doesn’t even question me tells me a lot.

---