42. -41- #3
“You’re so fucked,” Malin stared at me as if I’d grown another head. “No, not fucked. You’re in love.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t argue,” he cut me off before I could even form a thought, let alone a sentence. “I know that crap when I see it.”
My mouth closed, lips pressing into a thin line because what could I say? That he was wrong? That I cared but didn’t care enough?
I’d been arguing for her safety with my brothers since she started this shitshow. But love? No, no, no. That word didn’t belong in the same sentence as my name. I cared, nothing more.
Glancing at the papers scattered around me, one piece caught my eye. I lifted it and scanned the names, my heart skipping a beat as the realization hit me.
The marriage certificate, signed by her, but not by me.
The dots connected immediately. The reason she hadn’t gone public about our wedding was right in front of me.
Poor girl. I almost felt sorry for her.
Frowning at the medical report that had disappeared from my house, I mused about why Nina had it when I heard Malin cursing in her bedroom.
Knowing my brother wasn’t an easily disturbed person, my interest instantly sparked. I folded the papers along with the musical sheets and hid them under my shirt before entering the bedroom. Malin stood on the threshold of the walk-in closet, his eyes narrowing when he saw me.
“Let’s go,” he said, blocking the entrance. “She might return any moment.”
“What? No. You found something.” I pressed into him, but was met with resistance, which only confirmed my suspicion.
“Look, we already established that your wife is dangerous, possessive, insanely jealous, and manipulative, right?” He raised a brow, refusing to budge.
“Yeah, all the traits I value very much.” I winked at him playfully, standing on my tiptoes to see over his shoulder.
“Dorian,” he rumbled, pressing against me.
“Pretty,” I added, ignoring him. A dreamy expression settled on my face. “You forgot pretty.”
“Yeah, pretty crazy.”
He groaned, punching my shoulder when I finally pushed past him.
At first, I didn’t notice anything unusual. There was nothing he would be hiding from me. Clothes were hung by color. When I opened the drawers, they contained underwear, socks, and pantyhose. I frowned at Malin, who stood at the door with resignation contorting his features.
“Can we go now?” he asked, but I wasn’t ready yet. There had to be something…
Focusing on minor details, I checked every inch of the spacious closet: the shelves, the hangers, even the spot beside the mirror, when I noticed it.
The picture of me with my team from a magazine lay teasingly behind the black nightgown.
I bent down and moved the dress away, my eyes almost falling out of my sockets when the board with my face from every angle appeared.
Hastily, I grasped the hangers and threw the expensive clothes on the floor, staring at the wall with my mouth agape.
“Wooooow,” I exhaled, glimpsing Malin, who looked unaffected, but I knew better. His stalkerish tendencies had just been challenged.
“Crazy ass.” He pushed himself off the doorframe and stood beside me.
“Noooo, not crazy.” I shook my head resolutely. “Committed.”
“Diagnosis: attachment issues,” he provided stoically, taking a photo of me sleeping in my office on the couch off the board.
“What?” I glanced at the picture, assuming it was taken three days ago. I only wore white on Sundays.
“Based on the angle, it looks like you have a camera inside your office.”
A broad smile almost split my face in half. Malin rolled his eyes, slammed my sleeping photo against my chest, and left the closet, mumbling something about boundaries as if he were someone to lecture about those. He didn’t know what that word meant.
Turning to the board, I checked the photos, scribbled notes with dates, and drew emojis.
The entire wall was covered with me. Photographs, printed screenshots, blurry zoomed-in shots taken from a distance, Instagram pictures, candid moments I didn’t even remember happening.
Some were old enough that my tattoos were still incomplete, making me wonder where she got those. Others were recent. Very recent.
A low thrill slid down my spine as I stared at the collection of pictures taken while I slept peacefully in my own bed, completely unaware that someone stood over me with a camera. In one of them, her fingers brushed my hair. In another, she kissed my cheek and took a selfie of us.
The obsession covering the wall should’ve terrified me. Any sane man would’ve run. Instead, excitement bloomed in my chest.
Nina Valentino had turned me into her only fixation, and the most fucked-up part was that I freaking loved it.
“We have to go,” Malin interrupted me, swiftly lifting the hangers off the floor. His tone suggested there was no time to fool around. I helped him return the dresses to their place and cover the evidence of my wife’s extracurricular activities.
By the time I sat in the car and clutched the papers I’d stolen from her, I’d already made a game plan and couldn’t wait to execute it. She deserved to be punished for all the trouble she caused, and I had something amazing prepared.