He glared at me, cold and hard, his fingers digging into my wrist until the bones ached.
There was no trace of the warmth he used to show me. Nothing in his eyes but ice-cold hostility and the guarded look you'd give a stranger.
As if I were his worst enemy.
I knew. He was having another episode. He couldn't recognize me.
But I had already shattered.
"Caspar Stephens, look at me! Look at my face!" My voice cracked. Tears spilled down my cheeks. "Who am I?"
"I'm Maud Fox. Your wife. The woman who stood by you for five years, who spent the last two on her knees praying to every god she could find, begging them to bring you back to me!"
"Can you just open your eyes and look at me? When are you going to stop mistaking me for someone else?"
But he didn't hear me. Or didn't care. He kept Ebony tucked behind him, shielding her like she was something precious and fragile.
When he turned to face me, there was disgust in his eyes.
"You think you get to call yourself that?"
"She is my wife. You're nothing but a lunatic, and if you lay a finger on her again, I swear you'll regret it."
Ebony nestled against Caspar's chest, dabbing at crocodile tears with trembling fingers.