Chapter 109
Ethan
I pry my grip off my steering wheel and take a calming breath as I turn off the engine.
It doesn’t work.
So I give up on calm and let rage fill my chest as I climb out of my truck.
“What the actual fuck is going on here?” I let them hear my anger.
It’s all the same people from Vegas. Tilda’s mother, the shitty aunt who was at our wedding, more people I don’t care to remember. And her cousin Ralph.
I haven’t forgotten about Ralph.
Tilda’s awful mother steps to the front of the gathered crowd. “We’re just here to check on Til— Matilda.”
My footsteps are heavy as I cross to where she’s standing. “Leave.”
She plants her hands on her hips. “You can’t stop me from seeing my daughter.”
I plant my hands on my hips. Right next to my gun. “Oh, I can. And you have quite the fucking nerve calling her your daughter.”
“Now, son…” An older man shuffles closer.
“Shut the fuck up,” I shout at him. And they all jump.
My dad called me son. No one else gets to do that.
Tilda’s mother tries to keep the stoic look on her face, but I can see her darting her eyes back toward their cars. “We just want to—”
“What? You just want to what? Terrorize her? Intimidate her? Tell her why all that money should belong to you?” I shake my head.
“That’s not—”
“How long have you been here?” I ask in a low tone.
Tilda’s inside. I know she’s inside. And these people have been standing out here, making her a prisoner in her own home.
“We just—”
“How long?” The question booms out of my chest.
She takes a step back, bumping into the simpering man. “Just a couple hours. We just—”
I take a step forward, and she snaps her mouth shut.
Hours.
They’ve been here for fucking hours.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen.” I roll my shoulders out and regulate my volume to an even tone. “You’re going to leave. And you’re never going to come back.”
“She’s my daughter.” She says it like it’s some sort of ownership.
I lean into her space. “She’s my wife.”
I catch movement in the house through the windows, but I keep my attention on the woman before me.
And I remember the sight of Tilda standing in that bucket with her feet hurting.
I remember her not complaining because she was used to the pain.
Because her mother, this vile human in front of me, used to buy her shoes that were too small. On purpose.
This creature used to force my perfect fucking Starlight to wear dresses that were too small. On fucking purpose.
This biological sack of shit let my wife’s cousin threaten her life over money.
I inhale the rage.
“You do not get to call her that.” My voice comes out so low it’s almost a whisper.
“You don’t get to call her anything. You are so fucking far from deserving the title of mother…
You’re not even in the same species.” I think about my mom.
I think about the love she would have poured over Tilda.
And I think about the way Tilda felt in my arms just this morning.
“If my wife decides she wants you in her life, that’s her choice.
But until she does, you will not step foot on this property ever again.
You will not contact her. You will not so much as think her fucking name.
” I exhale the anger. “I won’t ever be violent toward a woman.
No matter how much you might deserve it.
” I slowly turn my head until I’m looking Ralph in the eye. “But I will hurt a man.”
I see fury reflected back in his gaze.
But it’s a selfish fury.
One of greed and jealousy.
A fury that can never match the heat of my own.
Because mine isn’t for me. It’s for her.