IN MY FATHER-IN-LAW'S BED: HIS TWISTED GAME

CARTER

CHAPTER SEVEN

SUMMER’S POV

The automatic doors of the Miller and Associates building hissed shut behind me, sealing out the damp night air and the suffocating pressure of the Benedict estate.

The lobby was silent, illuminated by the ghostly hum of overhead fluorescent lights that casted sharp shadows across the polished granite floor.

I didn't wait for the elevator. I climbed the stairs, my heels clamping against the plush carpet. Every step felt like shedding a layer of my old life—a life where I was a pawn in a game I didn’t know I was playing.

When I reached the firm's floor, the glow from Carter’s corner office was the only beacon of light in the labyrinth of cubicles.

I walked toward it, my heart hammering a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs.

Carter was standing by his desk, his sleeves rolled up, his tie undone.

He looked up as I appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance—my disheveled hair, and the gown that had been chosen for a celebration that had ended in a funeral for my marriage.

"Summer?" he breathed, his voice tight with alarm. He rushed forward, reaching for my arms, but I stepped back. I couldn't bear to be touched. Not by anyone.

"Don't," I said, my voice steadying. "Just… please. Can you do it?"

He searched my face, his professional mask struggling to hold against the raw devastation he clearly saw there. He knew better than to ask why again. He knew that when I reached this level of broken, there was no turning back.

"Sit," he commanded gently, pulling out the leather chair at his desk. He walked to the filing cabinet, his movements stiff and deliberate. "I have templates, but I need details, Summer. You know how this works. We need grounds for a dissolution this fast."

I sat, the chair feeling like a throne of needles.

I looked at my hands, still trembling.

"Tell me," Carter said, pulling a notepad onto his desk. "Start from the beginning. Give me the truth, the whole truth."

I took a shaky breath, and the dam broke. "The anonymous messages went AI generated like I thought Carter. They were freaky real!"

I began to speak, the words flowing out in a jagged, painful stream. I told him about the distance—how Darius would come home at three in the morning smelling of cheap perfume.

I told him about the missed anniversaries, the forgotten birthdays, the way he would look at me across the dinner table as if I were a stranger who had overstayed her welcome.

I didn't mention Sebastian. I didn't mention the way the older man’s eyes lingered on me, the way he had manipulated my heartbreak into a weapon. That was a different kind of poison, one I wasn't ready to expose to the light of day. I focused only on the destruction Darius had wrought.

"He gaslights me," I continued, the bile of those memories rising again. "Every time I confronted him, he made me feel like I was the insane one. He told me I was jealous, that I was being 'needy,' that my expectations were too high for a man of his standing. He made me feel like my own feelings were a burden he was tired of carrying."

"Those were before I stared receiving those anonymous messages. At the gathering today at my dad's I finally confirmed. Could you believe he screwed my sister right in our father's home?" I whispered, the weight of the confession finally settling in. "He was screwing her while I spent months trying to salvage a bond that he was actively severing behind my back. I was mourning a man who was still standing right in front of me."

Carter’s expression was dark, his jaw set in a line of grim fury. He was scratching notes rapidly, his pen tearing through the paper. "That bastard!"

"I know," I said. "And I'm done being the woman who waits for him to come home"

Carter stood up and walked to the printer. The hum of the machine felt like the countdown to my freedom. He returned a moment later, holding a thick stack of legal documents. He slid them across the mahogany desk, along with a heavy silver pen.

"These are standard separation papers, pending finalization," he said, his voice grave. "You sign here, and here. It initiates the filing. Once this is served, you are legally separated."

I looked at the papers. They were crisp, clean, and utterly devoid of emotion. They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen.

I reached for the pen. My hand didn't tremble this time. I signed my name at the bottom of the first page, the ink flowing dark and permanent. I didn't hesitate as I moved to the next.

Summer Benedict.

The name felt like a weight I was finally putting down.

I finished the last page and folded it into my palm. "Thank you, Carter."