Chapter 7---I Can't Stop Them
923 Words
Wendy Taylor was fierce at home but timid outside. She'd casually call Mr. Cook "that dog of a man" without a second thought, but the moment she saw him in person, she turned into a spineless wimp. "Oh, Serena Halberg's calling! You two talk, you talk!"
And with that, she bolted, leaving Madeline Cook standing alone with Mr. Cook, whose face barely concealed his anger.
Once safely away, Wendy couldn't resist a peek back. Seeing Mr. Cook's thunderous expression, she felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning Madeline.
Good grief—would Mr. Cook actually hit a woman?
Madeline met his gaze and smiled. "Fine."
With a slight smile, she stepped out of The Noctis Club with him, stopping beneath a streetlamp.
She'd just come off stage—hair slightly tousled, cheeks faintly flushed. Her lustrous almond eyes shimmered with a teasing smile.
Under the dim glow, Mr. Cook noticed something strange: tonight, Madeline carried a boldness she'd never shown before.
For three years of marriage, he'd barely noticed her. To him, she was just a gold-digger—delusional, out of her depth, not worth a second glance.
Yet, on rare visits to the Cook Family Villa, he'd catch her looking at him with soft, obedient eyes.
Now, though, she gazed at him with effortless defiance, her eyes bright and alluring, yet cold. "What does Mr. Cook want to say?"
His irritation flared. His words cut like ice. "We're divorced. We have no ties. Who you're with is none of my concern. But we only divorced this morning. You may not care about your reputation, but I won't wear a green hat over nothing."
Madeline was doused in cold water—again. A bitter smirk tugged at her lips as she brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. "But if someone chases me, what can I do, Mr. Cook?"
She let out a soft laugh. "If you're worried about this, save your breath. I served your parents, managed your household for three years. If you're scared people will say I gave you a green hat, worry instead about how the Cook family's reputation for wasting a daughter-in-law's youth will ruin your chances of marrying some high-society debutante later!"
Three precious years—gone. And not a second more would she waste on Mr. Cook.
"Nina should've delivered my message. We're divorced. Strangers."
She glanced at him, lips curling—half in self-mockery, half in mockery of him.
Then she turned and walked back into The Noctis Club. Mr. Cook stood under the lamp, face dark as a thundercloud.
Watching her go, he frowned, barely containing his rage.
She'd been the one to recklessly crash into his life—now playing the wronged party. Mr. Cook found it absurd. And himself, even more so.
Couldn't he have stayed home, sleeping in peace?
Instead, he'd come here to make a fool of himself. Truly, he must've been bored out of his mind.
His phone buzzed. Mr. Cook narrowed his eyes, pulled it out.
Caller ID flashed. "What?"
"Mason, I rear-ended someone. The other driver's furious. Can you come? I'm scared!" Elena Peterson's voice trembled, on the verge of tears.
Coldly, he said, "I'll send Hudson."
"Hudson can come, but my brother gave me the other driver's info today. If you're free, could I give it to you in person, Mason?"
Mr. Cook glanced at the neon sign of The Noctis Club, paused. "Where?"
"Springview Road Intersection."
"Mm."
He hung up—but didn't move toward his car.
He went back inside. Holden Prescott and Rowan Chadwick, surprised, teased, "Mason, back so soon?"
Mr. Cook shot them a glare. "Where's Madeline?"
Rowan Chadwick scratched his nose. "She left. Some handsome guy picked her up."
The moment the words left his mouth, Mr. Cook's face darkened. Without a word, he turned and left.
"Tsk."
Holden sighed, watching his back. "They're divorced. Why's he still meddling?"
Rowan shrugged. "Men and their weird possessiveness?"
"Who knows."
Divorced or not, what right did Mr. Cook have to comment?
Inside the black business sedan.
Madeline rubbed her temples. Wendy handed her two cocktails—she didn't notice, downed both. Now the alcohol hit hard, making her queasy.
In the back, Ellis Rockford had Wendy pinned, her trembling like a frightened quail.
The car was silent. Outside, lights flickered. Madeline recalled Mr. Cook's words—her heart ached, as if a thorn had been driven deep.
So he still feared the green hat? She'd thought he didn't care at all.
The sedan stopped at her villa. Ellis offered to walk her in. She waved him off. "Forget it. Handle your own Wendy. She's scheming even on my account."
Ellis grinned. "Would she dare if you didn't let her?"
Madeline shot him a look. "Enough. Just vanish. I just got divorced. Sick of couples."
"Then we'll disappear."
Twenty-plus years of friendship—more than "friends" could ever capture.
They all knew her. She hated pity. Divorce? It'd pass.
Inside, she made honey water. But sitting on the sofa, she just stared at the glass.
Staring… then, tears spilled.
Of course it hurt. She'd always been the golden girl—top looks, top grades. Even with modest means, she'd always been the spotlight.
Without Mr. Cook, she might've been like Wendy and Ellis—shining in her passions.
But no "if" in this world. At fifteen, Mr. Cook saved her. She thought it was salvation—only to find it was another abyss.
Now she'd crawled out. And she'd never fall back in.
- Writer
