Chapter 96
Chapter 96:
“Don’t involve her,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “This is between us p>
“There is no us,” Eliza snapped. “There hasn’t been for years p>
Anson looked at her. In the dim light, his expression shifted — the anger dissolving into a twisted, pathetic nostalgia that was somehow more frightening than his rage.
“You still look the same,” he whispered. “My Eliza p>
He reached for her hand where it clutched the blanket. His fingers were cold and clammy.
Eliza reacted on instinct. She slapped his hand away. The sound cracked sharply through the room.
“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.
Anson pulled back as if burned. His face hardened. The nostalgia vanished, replaced by the familiar, ugly sneer of possession.
“You let him touch you,” he spat. “That sterile robot Koch. You let him put his hands on you p>
“He is my husband,” Eliza said coldly. “You are nothing to me. Know your place p>
The insult landed. Anson’s jaw tightened.
𝘘uаl𝗶𝘁𝗒 𝘵𝗿𝘢𝘯𝘴𝗅𝗮𝘁𝗂oոѕ оո
He moved suddenly, lunging forward and grabbing her shoulders, pinning her against the headboard. His grip was bruising, his thumbs digging into her collarbone. The world narrowed to the stench of whiskey and his crazed eyes, inches from hers.
“I can make you forget him,” he muttered, leaning in. “I can make you remember who you really belong to p>
Eliza didn’t think. She didn’t hesitate. She drove her knee hard into his stomach.
Anson let out a wet, breathless groan and doubled over, his grip releasing as he clutched his midsection.
Eliza scrambled out of bed on the other side. Her feet hit the cold floorboards. She grabbed the heavy brass lamp from the nightstand and ripped its cord from the wall socket.
She held it like a club, chest heaving.
“Get out!” she screamed. “Get out, or I will scream so loud the neighbors in the next county will hear me p>
Anson straightened slowly, still clutching his side. He looked at the brass base in her hand, then up at her eyes.
He saw genuine fear — but he also saw hatred. Pure and unadulterated.
It seemed to sober him.
He stepped back, raising his hands in a mocking gesture of surrender. “You’re making a mistake, Eliza,” he said, his voice raspy. “He doesn’t love you. He’s using you p>
“The only mistake was coming back here,” Eliza said, her voice shaking with adrenaline. “Touch me again, and I leave tonight. Victoria or no Victoria. Deal or no deal p>
Anson held her gaze for a long moment. Then he turned and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the pictures on the wall rattled in their frames.
Eliza rushed to the door. She didn’t trust the lock anymore.
She grabbed the heavy oak chair from the desk and jammed it under the door handle, wedging it tight against the floor.
She backed away until her legs gave out and she sank down against the wall, pulling her knees to her chest.