Page 30 of The Butcher

“I want a divorce,” I repeated.

“We’re here,” Adrien said. “Can we at least finish the session?”

“No.”

He released a sigh. “Please. You said you would try.”

“And I tried,” I said calmly, knowing my heart was dead and no amount of drugs or paddles were going to restart it.

Linda looked at me. “May I ask what prompted such an abrupt change? Because you seemed receptive when you walked in the door.”

I glanced at the glass in the corner again. “Because my trust is shattered, and there are too many pieces to put back together.”

“We were there for less than ten minutes?—”

“It’s over.”

He followed me into the apartment. “You said you would try.”

“And I did try.” I turned back around. “You know how hard it was for me to go down there? No one gets married expecting to get divorced, but I really thought we would last. I really thought we were different—like a freakin’ idiot.”

“We are different.”

“No, we aren’t. We’re just another couple where the husband fucks around because he’s rich and thinks his wife will just put up with it.”

“It was one time.”

“That’s what you say…”

“Fleur—”

“I’m so fucking done with this.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “I don’t want to be married to you anymore, Adrien. I don’t want to try. I just want to move on. Stop forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. If you love me, you’ll let me go. If you’re the man you say you are, you won’t use your resources to block my attempts to be free of you.”

Adrien was rooted to the spot, looking cornered like I was the one who came at him. For the first time, he was speechless, out of ammo. “Why do I feel likehehas something to do with this?”

I felt myself stiffen even when I didn’t hear his name. He still had his grip on my throat, still had his thumb in the corner of my mouth. Our time together had been brief, but it left a lasting impression. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week.” He hadn’t contacted me. That could mean he moved on with someone else or lost interest. Or he wanted to give me the space to figure this out—unlike Adrien, who was down my throat every other day.

“That didn’t answer the question.”

I held his stare and my silence, unsure what I would say even if I could speak freely.

“He’s dangerous, Fleur. Trust me on that.”

“You’ve hurt me far more than he ever could.”

He stepped forward. “You don’t understand.” His eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “He is death.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but bumps formed on my arms anyway.

“If you’re looking for marriage and kids and security, he is not the answer.”

“I’m not looking for anything right now, Adrien. I’m just trying to put myself back together. I’m just trying to get through tomorrow and the next day.” I stepped away from him, feeling no connection to him whatsoever. “I’ve lost my friends, the family I thought I would have forever, I lost you…”

“You didn’t lose me.” His hand moved over his chest. “I’m still here.”

“I lost you the moment you stuck your dick in someone else.” I turned my back on him and faced the window, feeling the crackle in my chest and the ache in the back of my throat, the warning of impending tears. I hadn’t cried in front of him because I was too proud to let someone know they hurt me, but now, I struggled to keep my emotions in check, struggled to keep it together even with my back turned. “Please just go…and don’t come back.”

Chapter 9

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