“She doesn’t handle disruption well,” Zachary said calmly, as if we were discussing business logistics instead of my life. His hand tightened around her waist while she leaned into him, chin lifted, eyes smug. “She needs stability. No repeated meals, no sleeping alone. You’ll relocate to the guest wing.”
For a moment, the world went still.
“Relocate?” My voice fractured despite my effort to hold it steady. “You betray me, put a baby in her, drag her into my home on our anniversary—and you expect me to quietly move aside? Like I was never your wife?”
His expression sharpened, the warmth vanishing instantly. “This isn’t a negotiation, Avery. You will comply.”
“No.” My hands shook as I pointed toward her. “You parade your mistress into the Don’s residence and think I’ll bow my head? Do you hear yourself? The arrogance alone should choke you.”
“I said move.”
The air shifted when he stepped closer. Don Moretti didn’t need to raise his voice—his authority crushed without effort. Years of marriage, of shared power, of silent obedience pressed down on me, trying to force my knees to bend.
But I refused to kneel for a man who had already buried our vows.