Chapter 232
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VENUS
My phone vibrated on the countertop.
The sound was small. Ordinary.
I froze, water still pouring over my shoulders, breath snagging halfway through an inhale. For one irrational second, I considered leaving it there, letting it buzz until the battery died, pretending ignorance could still protect me.
But Andrea didn’t do maybes.
I shut the water off and reached for the towel, wrapping it tight as I stepped out of the shower. Cold tile bit into my feet, grounding me just enough to move. In the mirror, a woman stared back. She was calm, composed and in
control.
She was a liar.
I picked up the phone.
One message lit the screen.
>Can’t lie-you put on a good show. Didn’t think you had it in you.
My stomach hollowed out.
Not fear.
Confirmation.
Clarity settled in with sickening precision. Andrea hadn’t guessed. She hadn’t assumed. She knew exactly how last night had gone.
Which meant one thing.
I wasn’t alone.
Either the house was bugged-listening devices tucked into vents, cameras hidden where no one thought to look -or she had people close enough to hear what mattered.
This was her telling me she was watching.
My gaze lifted, sweeping the bathroom with new eyes: the vent above the shower, the light fixture, the narrow gap behind the mirror I’d never questioned. Paranoia crawled up my spine, cold and deliberate.
I hadn’t imagined it.
Colton.
Yesterday, what if she had-
No. She would’ve said something.
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I powered the phone off immediately, wrapped it in the towel like it was contaminated, and set it facedown on the counter. My hands stayed steady only because I forced them to be.
I needed to see my brother.
Now.
I slipped into a robe and opened the bathroom door.
Aaron was still there.
Standing near the window, arms crossed, posture rigid: the stance of a man replaying every second on a loop. He turned the moment I stepped out, eyes tracking me with quiet intensity.
He didn’t speak.
Neither did I.
I crossed the room, pulled on my clothes with practiced efficiency. I could feel his attention on me, reading every movement and every breath.
As I reached for the door, his hand closed around mine.
Firm. Unyielding. Not painful-never that-but ironclad all the same.
“I’m going to see the kids,” I said evenly. “Let go p>
He didn’t.
“No, Venus,” he said quietly. “We need to talk about last night p>
The calm in his voice didn’t fool me; his face told the truth.
“What about last night?” I asked, turning to him.
His grip tightened, just slightly. “Are you being serious right now p>
I said nothing.
“You drugged me,” he continued, measured and controlled. “You went out to God knows where, met God knows who. You got yourself wasted. And now you’re refusing to talk to me.” His jaw flexed. “What is wrong, Venus? I’ve been asking for a while now-even when it feels like you can’t-you can tell me p>
There it was. The opening.
The moment everything in me screamed to break-to tell him about Andrea, about the threat, about the message burning through my thoughts.
I couldn’t.
“Nothing,” I said, pulling the door handle, the motion giving me a second to steady myself. “We talked enough last night. I was drunk and angry. It happens. It’s done. I need peace, Aaron, not an inquest p>
I met his eyes, and for a terrifying heartbeat I saw the man I loved-the fixer, the protector, the one who carried
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the weight even when it crushed him.
“It’s not just the drinking,” he said, stepping closer. “You didn’t just yell. You chose words meant to hurt. Where did that come from p>
His voice was a plea-a line cast into deep water, hoping for the truth.
I couldn’t take it.
“It came from me,” I said, forcing bitterness into my tone. “From bottling up every resentment because I knew you couldn’t handle it. Last night, I didn’t have the energy to lie anymore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to check on our children. Unlike you, I don’t get to spend the day chasing shadows while ignoring the chaos I’ve created p>
A deliberate misdirection-accusing him of what I was doing: protecting myself with cruelty.
He stiffened.
“I was tired,” I continued, my voice rising despite myself. “I was suffocating in this house: waiting, sitting still, pretending not to imagine the worst every time I closed my eyes p>
His expression faltered.
“I was tired of being here,” I said, gesturing around us. “With no news. No answers. No sign of my daughter p>
I pulled my hand free and stepped back.
“So yes,” I said. “I drugged you. And I went out for air-because you wouldn’t have let me otherwise p>
“Venus p>
“You wouldn’t,” I snapped. “You would’ve told me to stay put. To be patient. To trust the process p>
He scrubbed a hand over his face, restraint fraying. “You should’ve told me,” he said hoarsely. “For God’s sake, I’m your husband. I’m trying my best to get our daughter back. Everything I’m doing-it’s to protect you p>
“Well, your best isn’t enough,” I said quietly.
The words landed hard. He froze.
“Who knows what state my daughter is in right now?” I whispered. “Who knows what she’s going through while we sit here talking strategy p>
“Our daughter,” he corrected gently. “And it kills me just as much as it kills you-being here, not knowing p>
His voice cracked.
That was the moment-the dangerous one.
I looked away because if I met his eyes, I would tell him everything, and that would kill Iris faster than any lie ever could.
“I need space, Aaron,” I said, my voice thin.
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He exhaled sharply. “Then ask for it, goddamn it, Venus. I’ll give it to you. You don’t have to do all of this p>
I couldn’t answer.
I opened the door.
He stopped me once, just enough to hold me there.
“I love you, Venus p>
I didn’t reply.
I gently pulled away and stepped into the hallway. I didn’t look back-but I felt it: the way his face fell, the quiet fracture behind my retreating back.
I walked toward my children, toward the lie I needed to live inside.
And somewhere, Andrea was listening.
For now.
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Ruby Walker
Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.