His Son’s Fiancée, His Ruin

Chapter 2 The Safe Word He Destroyed

*Lily* had been the name on his private notes, the name he used when he wanted Chloe gone. Hearing it again made the wall feel colder through my dress.

I kept my face close to his. “You play the family man well.”

His fingers dug into my arm. “You came into my house because you think you can win. I made you. I can break you again.”

Then his voice changed. The anger disappeared from it, leaving the measured cadence he had used in those locked sessions.

“*Sleeping Lily*. Be still.”

My knees locked.

The portraits shifted at the edge of my vision. My tongue pressed against the back of my teeth, yet no word came out. My body had heard him before my mind caught up.

*In for four. Hold for seven. Out for eight.*

My real therapist had made me practice the count until it became dull. I used it now. Air in. Hold. Air out.

Inside my shoes, I straightened my toes one by one. My right knee released. Then the left.

Arthur waited for my head to drop. It did not.

I reached into my clutch and took out a black recording pen. One click brought up the blue light.

“Sleeping Lily is finished,” I said. I pressed the pen against the front of his shirt. “Everything you say to me is on the record.”

He looked down at it. “You’re recording me?”

“You taught me to document everything.”

“You pathetic little w***e. You walk into my house and think you can...”

Footsteps sounded from the dining room.

I switched off the pen and put it away. The shaking in my hands was real, so I let Julian see it. I bent against the wall and pulled my shoulders in.

He turned the corner. “Chloe?”

Then he saw Arthur’s hand on me.

“Dad, get away from her!” Julian shoved him hard enough to send him back two steps.

Julian stood between us and checked my arm. Finger marks were already showing beneath the short sleeve.

“Did he hurt you?”

I put my face against his chest and let him feel me shake. One tear came, this time without any effort.

Arthur straightened his jacket. “I was having a private word with your fiancée.”

“You had her against the wall.” Julian kept one arm around me. “Touch her again and we’re done. Do you hear me?”

“Stop performing, Julian. You have no idea who she is.”

Arthur’s gaze dropped to my purse, then to the marks on my arm. He adjusted his cuff and walked back toward the dining room.

At the corner, he looked over his shoulder. The professor was back in place.

I had seen that look before. By morning, Patient 047 would be a diagnosis again.