Brant
I paced the bedroom, anger still coursing through my veins. When we got back from the club, Marirose had gone straight to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. I knocked and called out, but she refused to open it.
Leslie had already done the damage—planted the poisonous belief in Marirose’s mind that I, or any man, would never find her beautiful again because of the scar she left on her face. That woman wasn’t just cruel; this was brutality on another level. A brutal reminder of how far Leslie would go. And I swear, I will deal with her for this.
But right now, my priority wasn’t Leslie.
It was Marirose.
When she finally opened the door, a scarf was wrapped tightly around her face. Her swollen, bloodshot eyes were brimming with unshed tears. The air around her was heavy w
