Chapter 24
Alaric’s voice, deep and smooth like velvet, sliced through the noise around us. His presence was commanding, a stark contrast to Dwight’s brute force. He stood tall, his posture relaxed yet ready, a smirk playing on his lips. But behind the charm in his voice was something sharper, something dangerous.
Alaric’s hand shot out, gripping Dwight’s wrist where it held mine, his touch light but firm, enough to make Dwight stop. “Your behavior is a bit… off–brand, wouldn’t you say?” Alaric’s eyes gleamed with a cold amusement, though his smile
never wavered. “The big movie star image you’re so proud of? It doesn’t quite
align with manhandling women in public.‘
Dwight glared at Alaric, his eyes narrowing into slits. “This is between me and my
wife,” he growled, pulling at his wrist, but Alaric didn’t budge. “It’s none of your
business.”
The crowd around us seemed to inhale as one. The word “wife” echoed in the air
like a slap to the face. Dwight had never, not once, openly referred to me as his
wife, especially not in public. If this had been a few years ago, I might have been stunned, maybe even touched by the admission. But not anymore.
I was done with him. With all of it.
If Dwight thought his sudden display of possessiveness was going to reignite any old feelings, he was dead wrong. The years of lies, of half–truths, of his absence while he drowned himself in his career–it had long since drained any love I had left for him. Now, all that remained was resentment.
The tension between the two men was palpable. Alaric stood his ground, his grip unwavering as he met Dwight’s defiant stare head–on. “Whether it’s my business or not,” Alaric said slowly, his smile fading, replaced by a cold intensity, “shouldn’t that be for Miss Sylvia to decide?”
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His gaze shifted to me, softening slightly as he looked down at my wrist still caught in Dwight’s grasp. I didn’t need to say anything. My body answered for me,
instinctively leaning toward Alaric’s side, seeking safety.
Dwight noticed. His eyes flared with a sudden, wild anger. Bloodshot veins crept
across the whites of his eyes as his voice dropped to a low, dangerous growl.
“Sylvia,” he spat, his grip on me tightening. “Did you leave me for this strange
man? Is that it? What the hell does he have that I don’t?”
Before I could respond, Dwight’s rage overtook him. In one violent motion, he
yanked me toward him, his free hand grabbing the back of my neck as he pressed
his mouth to mine in a forceful kiss.
It was far from affectionate–it was a desperate, angry act of control. His lips
crashed against mine with no regard for me, only for his own need to assert
dominance. I could taste the bitterness on his breath, the alcohol mixing with the coppery taste of blood as his teeth grazed my lips, a feral reminder of the man he
had become.
I winced, trying to push him off, but his arms wrapped around me like a vice, pulling me closer as if he wanted to absorb me, to crush me into submission. Pain shot through my shoulder as his fingers dug into my skin, hard enough to leave
bruises. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, the world around us blurring
into a mass of shocked gasps and murmurs.
Without thinking, I swung my purse at him. The sound of it connecting with his
*
head was sharp and satisfying. “Get off me, Dwight!” I shouted, my voice trembling
with a mix of rage and disgust. “You’ve lost your damn mind!”
But Dwight didn’t seem to hear me. His expression twisted into something feral, his eyes wild as he sneered. “Why shouldn’t I kiss you?” He demanded, his voice thick with anger. “Is it because Alaric’s a better kisser? Is that it?”
That was the last straw.
Before I could respond, Alaric moved. In a swift, calculated motion, he lunged
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forward like a predator, grabbing Dwight by the collar and slamming him against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of him. “Since you already know
the answer,” Alaric growled, his voice dangerously low, “why don’t you save us all
the trouble and back off?”
Dwight’s eyes widened in shock, the weight of the impact leaving him dazed. Alaric didn’t let go, his hand fisted in Dwight’s shirt as he leaned in, his voice a deadly whisper. “If you keep this up, Sylvia’s well within her rights to press charges. So why don’t you walk away before things get even uglier?”
The crowd had gone silent, their collective gaze fixed on the confrontation. Some were recording, others whispering, but all of them were captivated by the scene unfolding in front of them. I could feel the tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.
Dwight, pinned to the wall, glared at me from beneath Alaric’s hold, his face twisted in frustration and humiliation. “Sylvia, we’re not done,” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with barely contained fury.
Chapter 25
Chapter 25
