Chapter 6 - The Cold Dinner Confrontation
The sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the quiet penthouse at precisely nine-thirty.
I was sitting in the living room,
the lights dimmed,
holding a cup of chamomile tea that had long since gone cold.
Grant walked in,
his suit jacket slung over his shoulder,
looking exhausted but carrying an air of smug satisfaction.
He stopped when he saw me,
his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to gauge my emotional state.
"You're still up,"
he said,
his voice cautious but carrying that familiar,
condescending undertone.
"I wanted to wait for you,"
I replied,
keeping my voice soft,
slightly trembling,
playing the role of the broken wife perfectly.
He sighed,
tossing his jacket onto the armchair and walking over to the bar to pour himself a glass of whiskey.
"Look,
Vivienne,"
he began,
taking a long sip before turning to face me.
"About this morning...
it wasn't supposed to happen like that."
"Then how was it supposed to happen,
Grant?"
I asked,
looking down at my hands,
mimicking a woman on the verge of tears.
"Cynthia was just excited,"
he explained,
stepping closer,
his tone shifting to that of a patient father explaining something to a child.
"She is a big part of my life now,
and she's going to be a big part of our daughter's life."
"You need to accept that,
Vivienne."
"The sooner you accept it,
the easier things will be for everyone."
I swallowed hard,
forcing myself to look up at him with wide,
fearful eyes.
"Are you leaving me for her?"
I asked,
my voice cracking slightly,
a masterpiece of acting that I was almost proud of.
Grant smiled,
a small,
victorious twitch of his lips that showed he believed every single word.
"I haven't decided what I'm doing yet,"
he said,
enjoying the power he thought he held over me.
"But if you want to keep this family together,
you need to start being more cooperative."
"Cynthia has a lot of influence,
her father is funding my entire expansion."
"If she is happy,
our future is secure."
"And what about my happiness?"
I whispered,
twisting my fingers together in my lap.
Grant let out a cold,
dismissive laugh,
setting his empty glass down on the coffee table.
"Your happiness?"
he sneered,
the mask slipping for a brief second.
"You have everything you could ever want,
Vivienne,
thanks to me."
"Don't ruin it with your hysterical outbursts like the one at the clinic."
"The doctor's office was deeply embarrassed,
by the way."
I looked at him,
memorizing the cruel curve of his mouth,
the utter lack of empathy in his eyes.
This was the man I had loved,
the man I had built a life with,
and he was completely gone,
replaced by a monster of greed.
"I understand,"
I said,
lowering my head so he couldn't see the cold,
calculating look in my eyes.
"I just want what's best for the baby."
"Good,"
he said,
patting my shoulder in a patronizing manner before turning to walk toward the master bedroom.
"I'm glad you're finally seeing sense."
As soon as his back was turned,
I reached into my pocket and turned off the voice recorder on my phone.
I had just captured him admitting to his financial motives,
his relationship with Cynthia,
and his emotional abuse.
The trap was set,
May you like
and he had walked right into it,
believing he was the king of the castle.
