Page 69 of Shameless Vows

Your Graceis how subordinates are supposed to address me, and I know her sudden use of it is a passive aggressive jab because she knows as well as I do that the turn-of-events of this afternoon has vindicated her. She’s going to kick the shit out of me later, and I’m going to let her, and I’m going to deserve every last bit of it.

I offer a nod that’s low enough to be a standing bow because I know she’s got the upper hand in this relationship now, I am at her total mercy, and she knows it.

At least… I hope she does.

I am prepared to let her bury me for this if she chooses.

“Do whatever you need to, darling,” I return, and her eyes flash at the term of endearment. “I’ll check on you momentarily.”

She steps past me and says under her breath, “There is no need.”

Isla approaches the kitchen, crossing around the counter, and retrieves a glass from the cabinet. After filling it with water, she exits the kitchen and marches through the living room to the opposite bedroom suite from mine, because we don’t share a bedroom despite being married, because I was stupid enough to fall for a sick, twisted prank. She pulls the door closed behind her so loudly that the framed art on the walls rattle.

The expression on Officer Miller’s face indicates that he’s reading between the lines, and he stands up. “I can have the phone returned to you after it’s analyzed,” he says, picking up the phone off the coffee table.

I shake my head. “I have no need for it anymore.” I silently inhale and exhale. “I would like to receive any updates you can give me regarding what you find out. I obviously have every intention of ensuring that those…peopleare punished to the full extent of the law.”

He pockets the phone and picks up the file. “Absolutely. I can have copies of the file sent to you if you’d like.”

I nod. “That would be most helpful.”

He offers me his hand, and we shake, then he makes his way out.

After lingering in the silence of the empty living room for a moment, I march to Isla’s bedroom and let myself in. She’s standing at the window with that same impeccable posture, her back to me.

I approach her, but stop at about a meter away. “Isla.”

“So, I didn’t actually cheat on you.” Her voice is less vacant now, and it pierces the room like an icy blue norther.

My stomach turns again. “It’s clear I was wrong.”

A long, heady silence permeates the room before she speaks again.

“And your belief that I did is the only reason you disappeared all those years ago?”

My throat constricts, but I manage to reply, “Yes.”

“Is it also theonly reasonyou turned into anabusivemonster?” she hisses with a sudden razor’s edge in her tone.

I can practically feel myself sinking into the floor with guilt and shame. “I didn’t know, Isla. I obviously quite foolishly believed—”

“You knewme,” she growls, her voice throaty and several octaves lower than I’ve ever heard it, and she whips around. In her hand, at the level of her waist, is a large, flashing, stainless steel kitchen knife.

There’s only one reason she grabbed a knife from the kitchen. And I’ll let her do that if she deems it appropriate.

Isla takes one step closer to me, poising the knife in midair as if preparing to shank me. “When have I ever called youbabe? When have I ever used such broken English, even in atext message?” She takes another step forward, but I stay where I am, and she thrusts the blade through the air. “You immediately believed an absolutelyabsurdworst-case scenario, and then only made a few calls, and didn’t eventryto come to me and talk to me about it.”

The rims of my eyes burn. “I’m sorry, Isla.”

“Youphysicallyinjured me. You verbally abused me. You belittled and humiliated me. Youpurposelyimpregnated me with the sole intention of taking my child away from me, andthenyou dragged me down a flight of stairs, and caused me to lose that child, andthenyou said I deserved it. That it wasmy fault. Because ofKarma.”

My vision is now blurry with tears, and I can barely get the words past the lump in my throat. “I’m so sor—”

“¡Arrodíllate!” she snaps, lunging toward me.

I immediately, but slowly lower myself to my knees in compliance with her command and lift my palms neutrally.

Her rich brown eyes have gone black with seething, righteous rage, and she takes a long stride to close the distance between us. She slowly raises the knife to the level of my throat and doesn’t so much as blink.

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