Page 1 of The Mistletoe Promise

ONE

FRANKIE

“You can’t expect me to sit here all day and do nothing,” Vivian glares at me.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do,” I snarl. “I just know you won’t be spending my money while you do it.”

Vivian's eyes narrow, her jaw clenching. "Your money? I thought we were partners in this."

"Partners?" I bark out a harsh laugh. "Is that what you call it when you sit on your ass while I do all the work?"

She stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You ungrateful bastard. I've sacrificed everything for this... for us."

"Sacrificed?" I sneer, my voice dripping with contempt. "What exactly have you sacrificed, Vivian? Your manicures? Your spa days?"

Her hand flies, and I feel the sting of her slap before I register the movement. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by our ragged breathing.

"How dare you?" she says, her voice trembling with rage. "And I'm taking what's rightfully mine."

I grab her wrist as she turns to go. "You're not taking a damn thing. You don’t own anything in this house, nor do you have anymoney.” I’m being an asshole. I know that, but, Christ, I never thought I’d be in this situation. We’re married three years—three fucking hell-filled years—and I’m done. I can’t deal with her shit any longer.

"Your money?" she says, her voice dripping with venom. "Last I checked, half of everything is mine. Or did you forget about that little piece of paper we signed?"

I chuckle. “Did you forget about the piece of paper you signed before we made our vows?” I ask with a raised brow. “Did you not read the pre-nup?”

Her eyes narrow and she glares at me. “What the hell is your problem, Frankie? I’m a good wife, a good mother.”

Once again, I bark out a laugh. “You’re delusional, that’s what you are, Viv. You’ve never been a good wife. The moment we said ‘I do’, you changed. Oh I get it, you worked your game until you got what you wanted, then the true Vivian came out. As for being a good mother?” I scoff. “Cherry’s better off without you. You’re a fucking terrible mother to her.”

She crosses her arms over her chest, fake tears pooling in her eyes. This bitch doesn’t care about anyone but herself. “How dare you accuse me of being a bad mom?”

“I’ve watched how you’ve treated your daughter, Vivian. Ever wonder why she doesn’t contact you?”

Vivian's face contorts with rage, the fake tears instantly evaporating. "Don't you dare bring Cherry into this," she hisses. "You have no idea what it's like to raise a child."

"No, but I know what it's like to be raised by someone like you," I shoot back. "Cold, manipulative, always putting on a show for others while tearing down your own flesh and blood behind closed doors."

She recoils as if I've slapped her. She's a damn joke, acting as though what I'm saying isn't true. "You don't know anything about me or my relationship with my daughter."

"I know enough," I say, my voice low and dangerous. "I've seen the texts, Vivian. I've heard the voicemails. You think I don't know about the times you've called her worthless? The way you've belittled her dreams?"

Vivian's face pales, her carefully constructed facade cracking. "You've been spying on me?"

"I didn't need to," I spit. "Cherry showed me everything. She came to me, Vivian. She needed someone to talk to, someone who would actually listen."

I should have known something was wrong when Vivian and I got together. The woman was cute and shy—or so I thought—I just assumed that her daughter was the same way, but when Cherry didn't come to the wedding, I started to suspect things weren't right. I couldn't have imagined what had actually gone down between mother and daughter. I remember back to the conversation that I had with Cherry about her mom. Vivian fucked that poor girl up. She really did.

"Mom and dad were so in love with each other, they didn't have the capacity to love anyone else. They really shouldn't have become parents. They just didn't have it in them to love a child as they should have. I was neglected by them. When my dad died, mom never changed, she continued to neglect me, even years later and into my adulthood she does the same. Then she met you and things still haven't changed."

I turn my attention back to my wife and for a moment, I see a flicker of something in her eyes—guilt? Regret? But it's gone in an instant, replaced by her usual cold fury.

"You turned my own daughter against me," she snarls, advancing on me, her eyes filled with anger and hatred.

I stand my ground. "No, Vivian. You did that all on your own. I just gave her a safe place to land when she needed it."

Vivian's nostrils flare, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "You have no right to interfere in my family affairs."

"Family affairs?" I scoff. "Is that what you call emotional abuse these days?"

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