She’ll come crawling back
1032 Words
Otthen stormed into the Neor mansion, the heavy oak doors slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud that echoed through the grand foyer.
The staff scattered like leaves in a storm, their eyes cast downward, their movements quick and cautious.
They knew better than to be caught in his path when he was like this—burning with rage, every step exuding the fury of a man who had been challenged in a way he could not forgive.
He threw his jacket onto a nearby chair with a sharp flick of his wrist, pacing the length of the room like a caged predator. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his shirt collar was undone, revealing the tension in his corded neck muscles. The air around him felt charged, his anger palpable, filling the vast, opulent space like an oppressive weight.
His mind replayed Cambrik’s defiance over and over, like a cruel loop designed to stoke his fury. The way she’d stood there, her arms crossed, her chin tilted in that quiet challenge, as if she had the right—the audacity—to confront him. And those words she’d spat, the accusations, the cold finality of her retreating back as she walked away from him in Solen’s house.
“Unbelievable,” he growled under his breath, his voice low and venomous. He grabbed the decanter of whiskey from the side table and poured himself a glass, the amber liquid sloshing over the rim as his hand shook with rage. He downed it in one gulp, the burn doing nothing to soothe the fire raging within him.
She thought she was strong enough to leave? Fine. Let her think she could survive on her own. Let her play this little game of independence. She’d learn soon enough. She always did.
Otthen’s lip curled in disdain as he poured another glass, staring into the swirling liquid as if it held the answers to the insult she’d dealt him. Cambrik was no warrior, no self-sufficient force who could rebuild herself from ashes. She wasn’t some modern, independent woman who could just walk out and start over.
She was a housewife.
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, sharp and humorless. Everything she had, everything she was, existed because of him. He’d built her world. He’d given her a home, a life of luxury, of security. Without him, she’d crumble.
The image of her standing on that staircase in the Hawt mansion burned in his mind. She’d looked so sure of herself, so determined to prove she could challenge him. But he knew better. She didn’t know the first thing about surviving without him. Every piece of her world had been crafted by his hands—his wealth, his power, his influence.
“She’ll come crawling back,” he muttered darkly, his voice a low rumble in the empty room. His fingers tightened around the glass, his knuckles white. “They always do.”
He paced again, his thoughts spiraling. Did she even realize what she’d done? She’d humiliated him—her actions a slap across the face, a blow to his carefully constructed life. She’d dared to show weakness in front of others, to expose cracks in their marriage for all the world to see.
His jaw clenched as he thought of Solen. That smug bastard. Standing there, defending her, acting as if he had the right to interfere. His business partner. His wife. The lines had blurred in a way that Otthen couldn’t forgive.
But it was Cambrik who would pay for this. Not with punishment, but with reality. She’d walked away thinking she could manage without him, that she could turn her back on the life he’d given her. But she’d soon realize the truth. Without him, there was no life. No safety net. No future.
“Let her think she’s won,” he hissed, setting the glass down with a force that made the crystal ring out sharply.
But Otthen knew the truth. He always had. She was nothing without him. And sooner or later, she’d understand that too.
She was nothing but a housewife—a loyal, doting wife who’d chosen to follow his lead, who had no resources of her own.
She would come crawling back the moment she realized that a single night away wouldn’t free her from that reality.
But first, he thought, a twisted satisfaction creeping into his mind, she needs to see what that life really looks like.
Otthen strode to his study, pulling out his phone, and called his bank. His voice was clipped, his anger barely restrained. "Yes, I need you to cancel all the cards on my joint account—immediately. All her access to the funds. No, I don’t care what time it is; just handle it."
He hung up, feeling a flicker of control settle over him. It was simple. If Cambrik thought she could leave without consequences, he’d show her otherwise. She would soon realize just how little she could do without his resources, without the life he had built.
She would be back, he told himself, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough. She’d left in anger, wrapped up in some fantasy that she could live without him. But once reality set in, once she saw how hard it was out there on her own, she’d understand just how much she needed him. How dependent she’d been on him all along.
Solen’s involvement only sharpened Otthen’s resolve. If she thought Solen would be her savior, then she’d soon realize just how wrong she was. Solen was a businessman, and an independent one. He wouldn’t keep her around indefinitely, not once she became a liability, a complication in his life.
Otthen smirked as he poured himself a drink, feeling his anger begin to settle, satisfaction spreading through him. He could almost picture it: Cambrik would be back, humiliated, realizing that her little rebellion was nothing more than a foolish mistake.
And when she did return, he’d be there to remind her of her place, to show her just how futile it was to try to break free from the life he’d so carefully constructed.
But for now, he’d wait.
- Writer
