Chapter 4
1280 Words
Hazel’s POV
I turned to meet Bryce's deep gaze, genuinely surprised he'd come at all.
Before I could speak, Zoey chimed in, sarcasm dripping from her tone. "Funny how Hazel just told us you had some huge emergency. Did you two forget to get your stories straight?"
Bryce's gaze swept over me, taking in the ink stains on my hands and my obvious discomfort. His brow furrowed. Then he stepped forward and draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, then looked pointedly at Zoey.
"There was an emergency. But I realized if I didn't show up, Hazel would just get bossed around all night. So even the biggest crisis could wait."
Zoey's smile froze. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Hazel volunteered to work on the gift table herself. Now she's playing the victim, saying we bullied her? What an act." Zoey stalked off, but not before shooting me a venomous glare.
I gently freed myself from his embrace, avoiding his touch. "How's Layla?" I asked, my voice sounding distant and cool.
"I'm sorry. Her wound's bandaged, so I had someone drive her and her mother home." He studied my aloof profile. "My assistant couldn't find you. How did you get here?"
"I'm here now, aren’t I? What's the point of asking?" I said, organizing the guest registry without looking at him.
His jaw tightened, but he swallowed it, knowing he was at fault tonight. The Westbrooks had sharp eyes, and the moment they spotted him, their attitudes changed entirely.
My mother Allison, who had been ordering me around minutes earlier, hurried over, all smiles. "Bryce! Come sit at the main table."
I watched him get swept away toward Grandfather Scott, smoothly exchanging pleasantries. In our first two years of marriage, whenever the Westbrooks gave me a hard time, Bryce would step in just like this, shielding me from their hostility. He wasn't entirely unkind. His kindness simply came from duty, from protecting his wife's dignity. Everything except love.
The banquet began. Allison mentioned her nephew, a graduate hunting for the right job, and Bryce immediately offered him an opening at his company. Scott watched, pleased, certain the marriage alliance between our families still held.
He took a sip of his drink and turned to us with a cheerful smile. "Six years married now. Don't you two think it's time for children?"
My grip on my fork tightened. Bryce, unfazed, answered smoothly. "Not yet, Scott. Hazel's launching her own studio. I want her focused on her career."
A perfect excuse, I thought bitterly, all to save himself for Madison. Six years, and he'd never once touched me. He'd rather play stepfather to another man's child than let me bear his own.
That was when Layla's tearful voice rang out behind us. "Uncle Bryce..."
My heart sank. I turned to find Madison holding her, gauze still wrapped around the child's forehead, standing pitifully at the entrance. Bryce's expression changed instantly, and then he strode toward them just like I’d expected. "What are you doing here?"
Madison's eyes were red. "I'm sorry, Bryce. Layla wouldn't stop crying and asking for you. I had to bring her."
Layla reached for him, sobbing, "Am I going to die like my Daddy did?"
He couldn't turn them away. In front of the entire room, he lifted her into his arms, murmuring words of comfort, while Madison moved to his side and smoothed her daughter's hair. For one unbearable moment, they looked like a real family of three.
My face went pale. Beneath the table, my hands clenched until my nails drew blood, and I felt none of it. This was the Westbrook family's celebration, and Bryce was their son-in-law, yet there he stood cradling another woman's child for everyone to see.
Madison drifted over next, her tone humble and fragile. "Ms. Westbrook, I'm so sorry. Layla is just so attached to Bryce." She let the rest unsaid, but the message was clear to every guest watching: my husband shared a deeper bond with her daughter than he did with me, his wife.
Finally, Scott cleared his throat. "They're guests. Find them seats."
Layla clutched Bryce's shirt, refusing. "I want Uncle Bryce to sit with us!"
He glanced at me uncertainly, as if seeking permission. I felt nothing but numbness. "Do what you want," I said, and looked away.
Something about my flat tone seemed to unsettle him. He knew that abandoning his wife at a Westbrook function, in front of everyone, would be a public humiliation. Whatever tenderness he offered Madison in private, tonight his wife could only be me.
"Layla, go with your mother," he said, firmer than I'd ever heard him. "Or I'm calling your babysitter." Startled by his tone, she finally let Madison lead her away.
Bryce returned to my side, raising his glass to the table. "Sorry for the scene. Layla lost her father recently, and I promised him I'd look after them. I guess I've been too lenient."
Scott accepted his excuse graciously, and the rest of the family swallowed their discomfort.
Under the table, Bryce reached for my hand, startled at how cold it was. I didn't even look at him.
As guests began leaving, Madison approached again, Layla drowsy in her arms. "I think she has a fever."
Bryce felt her forehead and swept her up. "I'll drive you to get urgent care now." Within moments he was gone, Madison trailing after him.
The instant they left, Scott's composure cracked. He turned to me, voice like ice. "My office. Now."
I sat across from him, resentment burning in my chest.
"You turned tonight into a circus," he said. "You don’t have any children after all these years, and now you want your own studio? A woman's priority is her family. Drop this nonsense and learn to be a proper wife."
I lifted my chin in defiance. "Having a business doesn't interfere with my marriage. I won't give it up."
"How dare you talk back to me!" He slammed his hand on the desk and summoned the servants. "Hold her down. Strike her palms ten times. Maybe she'll learn some respect."
They gripped my shoulders and forced me to kneel. I didn't struggle.
Just as the first strike was about to fall, I heard Bryce's voice right outside the office door. "Zoey, where's Hazel? Is she in with Grandfather Scott?"
My dead heart gave an involuntary, stupid flutter of hope.
"No, he's alone in there," Zoey lied smoothly. "Hazel probably thought you'd left with Madison and went home."
The silence stretched outside that door. All he had to do was push it open or call my phone. Either would expose her lie in an instant.
"Oh," Bryce said finally. "Okay."
Then his footsteps faded away.
He had chosen to believe her over me without a second thought.
The rod landed on my palm without any warning, and the pain seared violently through my whole body. It went on and on. Ten times, until my hands were swollen and streaked with red welts, throbbing all the way to my chest, though I didn't make a single sound.
"Get out. Reflect on what you've done," Scott said.
I rose on numb legs and stumbled toward the door, where Zoey waited, face filled with satisfaction. "Looks like your days as Mrs. Ellington are numbered."
I met her eyes coldly. "So you're planning to take my place?"
She seized my swollen hand and squeezed until cold sweat broke across my skin from the pain.
Then she leaned in, voice dripping with venom. “For someone who acts so high and mighty, you can't even compete with a widow and her kid. Pathetic."
- Writer
