Page 4 of Riot

I hate that it’s right. Last night, Kage brought my detachment to a screeching halt and forced me to feel with just a flirty conversation. I don’t know how or why, but it left me shaken and on edge. It doesn’t bode well for the interview, and I know I’ve been stiffer than I should be. Maybe that’s why I don’t see the daggers coming until it’s too late.

Usually, I’m two steps ahead.

Not today.

Today, they win.

“We were recently sent these pictures, and I thought we should ask you since we’re worried.”

I glance behind her to the screen they use, and my smile freezes on my face as I stare. My heart crumbles in my chest, and my entire world falls to pieces around me. I feel like I sink into the floor, but I’m still sitting here stiffly. Cameras and lights are aimed at me, and I start to sweat, my body overheating even as goose bumps rise on my flesh.

“Is everything okay in your marriage? Your husband’s infidelity will be all over the news today, and I know this must be a very hard time for you both, but your fans are worried about you.”

Infidelity.

The word echoes in my head as I stare at the pictures displayed there to cause as much damage as possible. They are pictures I have never seen before. There, with a bright smile on his face, brighter than he’s ever given me, is my husband. A woman is locked in his embrace, and her lipstick is smeared across his face. There’s one of him with his head thrown back, and another of him lifting her over his shoulder as they go into a hotel together. The last is the worst, and I can’t breathe as I stare at it.

It’s from a long-angled lens, and it was taken through an open window.

He’s on his back, the sheet pooled around him as his back arches as the same woman, now naked, rides his cock. The date is from last week.

It was the date of our anniversary, when he was late to the dinner I had painstakingly planned since it felt like I should. He was late.

He was late because he was fucking her. I don’t know which annoys me more. The fact that he dared to be late or that he dared to fuck someone else like he doesn’t have the fucking catch of all catches at home. I fucking cooked for him. I never do that, I hate cooking, yet my thoughts come back to one solid musing.

My husband is cheating on me.

Maybe he has been for a while.

He cheated, and I’m left staring as they wait for my reaction.

They will use it to sell their show and their papers, all while my world splinters around me. I created the perfect life as a fuck you to my past, and now it’s crumbling. The safety and sanctuary I created is gone.

Stolen.

“Fallon, are you okay?” The fake concern is cloying in her tone, and I blink, bringing her back into focus. Her eyes are narrowed. They want me to break. They want to plaster it across TV, hysterical Fallon who cries after finding her husband is cheating on her with a younger, hotter woman.

They want my anger and pain.

They won’t get it.

I’ve spent years burying my feelings, repressing them after what I’ve been through. I’ve never given into the pain, and I spent years being camera trained by my father. The punishments if I failed were a lot worse than this now.

I don’t crack, not even a little, but I know I will eventually, like a ticking time bomb.

I feel it building like a wave behind a dam, ready to splash over.

I need to get out of there now. The panic in that thought is what gets me to unhinge my jaw and speak, even when it feels like I’ve swallowed my tongue.

“This interview is over. Thank you for having me, Louise.” I can scarcely breathe as I stand. I can’t even lift my hand to wave at the fans, and in the complete, deafening silence of the studio, I calmly walk off stage when all I feel is pure agony.

Shock.

Pain.

It’s more than I’ve felt in years, and the emotions are so strong they stagger me. I can’t breathe in enough air or see as I hurry to my car, and once inside, I slam the partition closed and let the tears fall.

My hands hit the seats as I sob, the barrier silencing them so the world will never know. I scream and cry as the tears slide down my cheeks.

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