Claimed by My Husband's Enemy

Uncle Malcolm

MALCOLM KNIGHTLY

The silence of the night greets me when I step out of the station. And I wince at the memory of Mel’s tears, the confused hurt in her eyes, after Dany dropped the bombshell.

His mic-drop moment, just before leaving the station with his split lip.

I lower my gaze to the envelope now, clutched in my white-knuckled fist as his words replay endlessly in my head.

“That’s my price if you want the charges dropped.”

I jerk my car door open, and toss the offensive document onto the passenger seat before slipping behind the wheel.

“Call Attorney Morgan,” I speak aloud as I steer into the driveway.

My phone blinks awake. “Calling, Attorney Morgan.”

I dart a look at the GPS as the ringtone burrs through the car. Mel’s place is just seventeen minutes away. But I couldn’t get there quickly enough. The woman will remain in turmoil till I can confirm the kids are fine.

The call connects and a familiar voice filters through the speakers into my car. “Knightly, do you know what time it is?”

“Trust me, Morgan, I do.”

I just left the dearest person in my life in jail at this time of night after all.

“Must be important if you’re calling me at nearly midnight. What happened? State department causing more trouble for the company?”

I shake my head even though he can’t see me.

“The Group is in trouble alright, but not from the state department. It's Spencer.”

The silence that comes after that is more meaningful than any words can convey.

Morgan, who has acted as my family’s lawyer for years, and then mine, knows the history I have with that name. A dark secret deeper than Dany stealing my girl.

“Old-man Spencer, or his puppy?”

That gets a chuckle out of me as an unbidden visual of Dany on his knees with a collar around his neck floats in my head. It smooths out the edge of my ire.

“It’s Dany. But there might be hands extending from the shadows.”

“I understand,” Morgan says, “we both know how old man Spencer operates.”

“No, you don't.” I wound down my window, letting in some fresh air. “Spencer left a contract, an agreement he expects Mel to sign that could affect the Group.”

“Hold on. Where and why? What led to this?” Morgan’s tone turns serious.

“The fool went and got himself a second wife,” I say, and tell him about the events of tonight.

Mel is at this moment on the verge of losing a billion dollars and every asset to her name. Even then, she would remain his wife except she found a way to annul their church marriage that operates on its own ecclesiastical laws.

“This is one hell of a cluster f**k, Knightly.” My attorney swears out of habit. “What do you have in mind? You wouldn't have called if you didn't have a plan?”

I frown in recollection of Mel’s original request.“I need to investigate this new wife,” I honk and drive around a car crawling to a halt, as the Queen’s tower comes into view, “But first, I must get Mel out of jail.”

“And the company, we should…”

“Hold off.” I steer onto the driveway of the Queen's tower, deciding to tell him all about the plan at a later time. “Do nothing, Malcolm.” I repeat.

“Ok sir.”

I drive straight into the underground parking lot of the tower, giving a nod to the guards who recognize me and my car.

Biometric screening from the building’s security is quick, as this is not my first time. But inside the house, the living room is as empty as the entertainment room upstairs.

I change direction towards the children’s bedroom, feeling relief at the realization that they have been able to settle into bed without their mother's presence…

My feet grind to a halt.

I frown. Uncertain, I strain to catch the odd sound again. Silence lingers in the hallway, and then I hear it. A soft moan and masculine groan in concert, filtering through the mahogany double doors of the master bedroom.

“Touch me. You've earned it.”

“Your smell…” A masculine grunt. “You feel like heaven, baby.”

I grimace. But I resume walking in spite of my mounting rage, when I hear the masculine voice say, “She’ll submit. I swear, I'll have you both in my bed before the week is over.”

Rage whips me around, and my legs eat the distance towards the double doors in my haste to give the bastard a proper dose of ass whooping this time. But then I stiffen.

Mel.

Interfering anymore than I already did at the station will make her even more hostile towards me.

I turn, and hurry along the hallway as the feminine voice turns high-pitched, trailing me, “... Oh yes, big boy. My big boy.”

The children… are awake.

I hear their muffled little voices as I draw closer to Jeff's bedroom. I reach for the doorknob, turn and then push the door open.

A startled breath escapes me at the sight that greets me. Dangling from a curtain rod by the west window is a length of jute rope. And little Vivi is right now wrapping the other end of the rope around her brother's chest in knots.

“Is this really how you saw it in the movie?”

“Yea… When you are done, you pull it up like this, and I will fly up.”

“Stop it!”

They fly apart. Vivi raises her hand to her brother. “It was Jeff's idea.”

Jeff blinks at her in shock before trying to school his face, and failing horribly, as he faces me.

I rush forward to disentangle the rope as my heart hammers against my ribs. If I’d shown up even a second later, one of these knots would have dislodged and tightened around his neck.

I'm panting as I lean back to regard the large sets of blue eyes staring up nervously at me.

“Yes, Uncle Malcolm. It was my idea.”

“I’m sure if I care to find out, I’ll discover that you're both responsible for this,” I grit out, and they both lower their heads.

“Where's your nanny, why are you not in your bedroom, Vivi?” It's a Herculean task, but I manage to keep my voice soft.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Malcolm.” Her eyes are wide, and her lips start to tremble.

My shoulders sag.

“I’m sorry too, Uncle Malcolm,” Jeff echoes.

And I drop in a squat before them, gathering the children who should have been mine into my arms.

“Don't cry,” I say gently to the sniffling princess. “That’s good, that you are sorry, but it's not going to stop me from telling your mom.”

I pull back to stare into their widened eyes. No one likes being reported to mom.

Not even me.

“Now, if you can tell me what led to you replicating a superhero grappling hook, I can maybe convince her to reduce your punishment?”

“Um, Vivi couldn't stop thinking about mommy and daddy arguing,” Jeff begins without hesitation, “so I decided to distract her for a while.”

“Uncle Malcolm?” Vivi looks at me.

“Yes, dear?”

“Do you know where mommy went? When daddy came home, and we asked him, he said she's getting a reality check. What does that mean?”

And that is the last straw for me.