Page 91 of The Devil's Torment

“I hope we can rebuild a relationship I didn’t realize was this broken. For all the times I’ve made you feel less than, I truly am sorry.”

A lump crawls into my throat, and I’m on the verge of tears. I stop them from falling by biting my lip.

“I’ll be in touch.”

Dad kisses the top of my head and puts his arm around Mum’s shoulders. Beth perches on the arm of the chair and tucks my hair behind my ear, then leans over to hug me briefly. “I love you, Vic. I’ve made tons of mistakes, but if I get through this, I promise I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Speech is impossible without bursting into tears. I can only nod, but as the click of the door closing reaches me, I tuck my knees into my chest, wrap my arms around them, and bawl my eyes out.

ChapterThirty-One

NICHOLAS

I haven’t visited Victoria’s family home since we were married, and when I woke up this morning, I had no intention of visiting today. Things changed when I arrived back at Oakleigh from a meeting with Xan and Christian and the Health and Safety Executive to find my wife in floods of tears, with a bunch of leaflets on the coffee table about kidney donation.

Victoria doesn’t know I’m here. She’d have begged me not to come, to leave things be, but despite her mother and father trotting out “We love you,” platitudes, there’s a line in the sand that needs to be drawn, and I’m here to make damned sure it is. In blood if needs be.

Barron waits in the car with Sol while I march to the front door and knock. Phillip answers, and he takes one look at my face and backs up. Without waiting for a formal invitation, I enter the house and beeline for the living room to the right of the hallway. Laura is sitting in a chair, knitting. There’s no sign of Elizabeth.

“Laura.” It’s a curt greeting, and it hits the mark. She drops the knitting needles, and the ball of wool that had been resting on the arm of the chair falls off and rolls across the floor, coming to a stop by the hearth.

“Oh, Nicholas.” She glances past me, and when she sees I’m alone, her face falls. “I guess you’re here to talk about Vicky.”

“No. I’m here to tell you that you’re barred from Oakleigh. The security team have been informed.”

“Barred? You can’t do that,” Phillip blusters.

“I can, and I have. I will not have you pressuring Victoria. I fucking told you last night to back the hell off, and what do I find when I get home from a meeting this afternoon? My wife in tears, and a stack of kidney donation leaflets on my coffee table.”

“We didn’t go to pressure her,” Laura says, pointlessly pleading a case I’m beyond listening to or caring about. “We went to apologize.”

“And just happened to produce those leaflets like a fucking magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat.”

“It wasn’t like that.” She starts biting her nails and looking to Phillip for guidance. The problem with Laura and Phillip, though, is she’s always worn the trousers. Phillip is a decent guy, but he’s spineless. He proves it by dropping his gaze and shuffling his feet.

“Vicky said she didn’t know what it involved, which was why Beth gave her the leaflets.”

“Of course she did.” I snort, sweeping my gaze around the room. “And where is Elizabeth?”

“She’s gone home. I said we’d let her know if we had news.”

It’s lucky Elizabeth isn’t here. I may have throttled her to death and saved Victoria from having to make this decision at all.

“That’s the last time you will see Victoria until she’s made up her mind. I don’t care if it takes a week, a month, a fucking year.”

“Beth doesn’t have a year,” Laura says quietly.

If she’s hoping to engage my compassionate gene, she’s in for a disappointment. I don’t fucking have one. Not for Elizabeth, nor for her parents.

“I don’t care. Knowing there’s a ticking time bomb doesn’t change my decision. I will not have my wife pressured in any way, and as you’ve proven you can’t be trusted, I’ve taken draconian measures to ensure she is protected.”

“Please, can we?—?”

“I’ll see myself out.” I don’t wait to hear the rest of Laura’s appeal. I sweep from the room, slam the front door behind me, and climb into the back seat of the car.

Barron arches a brow. He’s been with me so long, he’s more like family than an employee, but I’m not in the mood. When I glower and snap, “Oakleigh,” at Sol, Barron reads my mood and straightens in his seat, keeping his lip buttoned.

As Sol guides the car through Oakleigh’s main gate, flurries of snow fall. Maybe we’ll get a white Christmas after all, although Christmas Day is still three days away, and this is England. The weather is unpredictable at the best of times.

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