“Your father’s attorney has nothing to do with our marital insurance,” Adrian snapped, his face darkening as his sales cadence vanished. “You are being paranoid, Evelyn. You have been in this bed for two days while I am trying to keep Vale Capital from going under.”
“Then let it go under,” I said, looking him directly in the eyes.
“You think you can just retreat into your family name whenever things get difficult,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “But you are my wife now, not Jonathan Ashford’s protected little girl.”
He snatched the blue folder from the bed, his grip so tight the cardboard buckled under his thumb.
“We will talk about this at home,” he said, his mouth twisting into a thin line. “If we still have a home by Friday.”
He brought her here because he wanted me to see what my signature was buying.
He turned on his heel and strode out, the heavy oak door swinging shut behind him with a solid, final click.
The quiet hum of the infant monitors filled the room once more, the green lights blinking in the dark corner.
