The Dirt Beneath Their Feet
1085 Words
Liam Carter didn’t get far before the cold caught up to him.
Outside the Montgomery estate, the air was sharp, biting through his ill-fitted jacket as if punishing him for showing up at all. The valet handed him his keys without a word, barely disguising the smirk tugging at his lips.
The parking attendant knew. They all knew. The charity son-in-law — ousted before dessert.
He slipped into his secondhand sedan, its heater groaning to life like an old dog too tired to bark. For a moment, he just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, trying to breathe past the knot in his chest.
Then, his phone buzzed.
Natalie.
He stared at the screen. Her name, still under My Love, looked like a cruel joke now.
He answered.
“You didn’t have to leave,” she said, voice smooth but detached. “At least not like that.”
He almost laughed. “Your father said I wasn’t welcome.”
A pause. “He was joking.”
“No,” Liam said quietly. “He wasn’t.”
She didn’t deny it.
Then, as if sensing his bitterness, Natalie’s tone shifted to something cold. “You knew what this marriage was. My father gave you a shot, Liam. Three years. You still have nothing to show for it.”
“I have you.”
“That’s not enough.”
The line went dead.
He dropped the phone into the passenger seat and drove. Nowhere in particular. Just away.
*****
The next morning…
The Montgomery penthouse sat high above the city like a throne carved from glass. Inside, Natalie was already seated at the breakfast table, scrolling through headlines. Harold sat at the head, reading a report, while Charles sipped espresso with an ever-present smirk.
“Did he cry?” Charles asked casually, not even looking up.
Natalie didn’t answer.
Harold lowered his paper. “I don’t mind rebellion. I respect it, even. But a rebel should have claws, teeth — something. That boy has none.”
“He was quiet,” Natalie murmured. “Didn’t even argue.”
Harold chuckled. “Because he knows what he is. A pet project. You could’ve married into old money, Natalie. We had deals lined up. Families with real power. But you picked a mutt.”
Natalie’s eyes flicked to her father. “I thought I saw something in him.”
“And now?”
She hesitated. “Now I see... potential wasted.”
Charles grinned. “Still clinging to the fairytale. Poor girl.”
Just then, a housekeeper entered with a tray — she paused at the door, nervous.
“Sir, Mr. Carter is here. He said he left his cufflinks in the guest room.”
Harold didn’t look up. “Tell him to wait in the service entrance.”
Natalie said nothing.
Charles smirked. “Better check he doesn’t steal the silverware.”
Downstairs.
Liam stood at the back entrance, surrounded by crates of champagne and bags of trash from last night’s gala. No one offered him coffee. No one even met his eye.
He found the cufflinks — a pair of cheap ones, gifted by Natalie before their wedding, more sentimental than valuable. But he lingered, staring at the city skyline from the service corridor, wondering if it would ever feel like his.
The door creaked open behind him.
“Thought you’d be halfway across the country by now,” Charles said, stepping out.
Liam turned. “Forgot these.”
Charles eyed the cufflinks and snorted. “Right. Sentimental junk.”
Liam pocketed them. “Not everyone measures worth by price tags.”
Charles stepped closer, eyes gleaming. “You still don’t get it. You’re not one of us. You never will be. My father let you in as a favor to Natalie. But that grace? It’s expired.”
“I didn’t come here for your grace.”
“No,” Charles sneered. “You came because you’re pathetic. And because you thought love would be enough.”
Liam’s jaw twitched.
Charles didn’t stop. “Want to know what Natalie said after you left last night? She said she pitied you. Said marrying you was the biggest mistake of her life.”
Liam didn’t flinch.
Not this time.
Instead, he stepped forward, his voice low.
“Then why is she still married to me?”
Charles’s grin faltered.
Liam leaned closer. “Careful, Charles. Poke the wrong dog long enough... and even mutts bite.”
For the first time, Charles looked unsure.
Then the door opened again.
Natalie stood there, wrapped in a silk robe, arms crossed.
“I told you not to come back,” she said flatly.
Liam met her eyes. For a moment, something flickered there — guilt? Regret?
But then it vanished.
She turned her back. “Next time, send someone.”
Later that night…
Liam stood in his tiny apartment — a one-bedroom in a forgotten building off Fifth — staring at the mirror. The suit still hung on the back of the chair. Wrinkled. Cheap. Mocked.
He took the cufflinks from his pocket and set them down.
He felt restless, could not sleep. He kept acing, deep in thought. He didn't even mind the Montgomery'treatment of him, though it was hard to stomach, if only he had his wife's support. But her continual indifference was what was unbearable and right now he was tired of trying to win her love.
She seem also to want her space. So, maybe it was time.
Time to severe the toxic tie.
If she had hated him, it would have been far better. At least that took emotion. But she was just cold towards him and if he could not get her support, and love, he was done being in this toxic relationship of a marriage. Now, she didn't want to see him? That was okay. He was supposed to be used to it by now but it hurt.
Badly.
He felt suffocated, all of a sudden and decided to go for a walk.
He needed to clear his head. He had been tempted to drink but that would be worse because it would cloud his mind even more and he needed to think.
Moreover, the wine was from the Montgomerys and he was tired of free loading off them like they kept accusing him of doing.
He had to think of ways to survive and rise to the top without depending on anyone.
He had just stepped out of the house when his phone rang.
- Writer
