Page 172 of A Smile Full of Lies
“You’re not entitled to anything she built. You sure as hell aren’t entitled to a seat at her table just because you helped fold the napkins two years ago.”
Her voice dropped to a venomous hiss.
“She’s not that special, Mr. Knox. You’re just too obsessed to see it.”
And that? That made me smile. That quiet,dangeroussmile that only shows up when someone is two seconds from regretting their life choices.
“You’re wrong,” I said. “She’sexactlythat special. And I’ve been watching her prove it every single day since she was eighteen goddamn years old.”
Nina went quiet, and I delivered the last blow.
“You want relevance?” I asked. “Write your own book. But you don’t get to ride her coattails.”
Then I stalked across the room and opened the door.
“Get the fuck out of our house.”
She left, not because she wanted to, but because she knew better than to try me. And when the door clicked shut behind her, the house went silent again.
Ros let out a slow breath.
“You called me your wife,” she said, voice trembling.
I turned and met her gaze as I stalked across the room toward her, closing the distance between us, and slid my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in slow.
“I meant it. Just because we haven’t had a wedding ceremony yet doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
Her eyes filled with something I couldn’t name. Something holy.
And I said it again, soft and sure and unshakable:
“You’re my wife.”
And Ros?
She just stood there, looking at me like she’d never seen me before. Like everything I’d just said cracked something open in her that she didn’t know was still locked shut.
I kept one hand on the back of her neck, the other brushing her hip, grounding her.
“You okay?” I asked.
She nodded.
Then she said, “You meant it.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Every word,” I told her. “I wasn’t going to let her make you feel small in our home. You did something impossible, Ros. You told the truth when everyone else ran from it. And I’ll burn down anyone who tries to take that from you.”
She stared at me for a long moment.
“You told me to cut her out.”
“I did.”
“And I didn’t fight you.”
“No, you didn’t.”
