Chapter 19 The Husband that Wouldn’t Go Away
Chapter nineteen
The Husband that Wouldn’t Go Away
Dominic
Was this some cruel joke?
Everything was finally coming together for Teyonah and me.
And then the door creaked open, and there he was—Scott.
The bastard who had thrown Teyonah’s heart away, who made her juggle life, law, and loneliness while he paraded around with young, silicone-breasted sluts who probably didn’t even know his kids’ names.
Now he stood in the doorway like a snake in a tailored suit, smirk thin as a scalpel, waving papers that reeked of legal poison.
My body went taut.
Every nerve ending lit up, not with fear, but with the steady crawl of rage.
No. I will not let him ruin this for me. I had to fight to even get her to warm to us.
I looked at Scott—the villain in my life.
Did he think that he could just walk in here and take back what he’d lost?
Hell no.
My jaw clenched.
In my mind, I mapped the next five minutes.
I could knock Scott out—quick, efficient, a strike to the temple with the heel of my hand. The perfect impact to trigger neurons misfire. Membranes fail. Adrenaline flood. Lactate climbs and tissue gasp.
He would fall back, and I would drag his limp body across the driveway before he even hit the ground hard enough to bruise.
Next step would be to toss him into his car’s back trunk like a bag of trash and fold him inside.
Then drive.
Thirty minutes out, there was a lake I’d passed with the kids in the car, surrounded by trees no one cared about.
I would have to park his car, push it in neutral, and let gravity and water do the rest.
The lake would swallow him whole.
Then I’d call a ride-share back.
Be home before bedtime stories were finished.
Teyonah would never need to know.
I could do it.
I knew anatomy. I knew how long a man could be choked before oxygen deprivation did irreversible damage. I knew exactly how to silence him without leaving a mark that couldn’t be explained away.
My fingers curled into fists.
I stepped forward, ready to kill him and the snapping of a leash stopped me.
What’s that?
A man’s voice carried across the yard. “Scott, is that you?”
I flicked my gaze sideways.
Jerry. One of the neighbors. Middle-aged, round glasses, plaid shirt, always walking his golden retriever.
Damn it.
The dog squatted near the tree in front of the house. His tail went stiff and his face was intent in canine seriousness.
Scott turned. “Hey Jerry.”
The dog continued shitting, and Jerry pulled out a plastic bag. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I know.” Scott chuckled. “But you’ll be seeing me even more.”
What the fuck does that mean?
The words hit me like acid.
And now I knew that he wasn’t just here to drop papers off. He was here to plant himself back into Teyonah’s life, like a tumor returning after surgery.
My vision blurred at the edges.
I wanted to lunge and slam him against the doorframe until the papers crumpled, until his smirk cracked, until that slick voice turned into a gurgle.
Instead, I stood still, forcing myself to breathe, because Jerry was still standing there, fumbling with his bag, and nosy eyes occasionally flicking up toward us.
His dog finished shitting and then sniffed the grass, unhurried.
I couldn’t do what I wanted.
Not with an audience.
So I stood there, rage burning a hole through my skin, watching Scott wave like some friendly neighbor instead of the villain he was. “See you later, Jerry.”
“Sounds good, Scott.”
Teyonah’s douchebag husband was sloppy, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew how to play a crowd, how to look harmless. That was his gift—mediocrity dressed up as competence.
Just good enough to pass.
Just polished enough to fool.
But I saw through it.
I saw the cruelty under his smile and the carelessness in his eyes.
I saw the man who had broken Teyonah piece by piece, then had the audacity to walk back in here holding papers like shackles.
My fingers ached with the need to act.
I imagined it again: his head snapping back under my fist, his mouth forming an ‘O’ of shock before going slack. Dragging him down the walkway, Jerry calling after me, confused, “Everything okay?” and me flashing a polite grin as I shoved Scott into the trunk.
“Just helping him to his car.”
Then gone.
Vanished into the night.
No more Scott.
But the fantasy was just that—for now.
Because Jerry was still fucking there, standing up now, tying off the plastic bag with excruciating slowness.
The dog tugged at the leash, sniffing around as if it planned to take a second shit just to spite me.
Scott turned back to me.
My blood roared in my ears.
He glared at me. “Who are you, and why are you opening the door to my house?”
I straightened to my full height, making sure he knew that I was not only towering over him, but much bigger in size. “I’m the tenant who lives downstairs.”
His eyes flicked over me, sneering at my scrubs, my damp forearms from the dishes, the way I blocked the warm light spilling from the kitchen. “Then. . .why aren’t you downstairs?”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
He shoved his shoulder into the door.
I made it a bit harder for him to get in and then stepped aside, hoping that I’d bruised his side a little.
With a grunt, he stepped inside like he owned the air. The papers in his hand flashed official and hostile. “Teyonah! Teyonah!”
His voice ripped through the house, through me.
Something old and animal snarled.
“She’s putting the kids to sleep.” I stepped between him and the stairs without touching him.
Still, the asshole yelled. “Teyonah, what the hell is going on around here?! Teyonah?!”
My pulse hammered in my hands.
I wanted to break his nose just to make the sound stop.
I wanted to drive his head through the wall and watch him bleed down my knuckles.
I wanted to make him apologize to the floorboards for walking on them.
I wanted a hundred things that would ruin everything for Teyonah—yet feed the bloodlust clawing up my throat.
Hurried footsteps sounded above.
And then her voice came. “Scott, what the hell are you doing here?”
I turned.
My knees nearly buckled.
Teyonah stood at the top of the stairs now in a new pair of red silk pajamas that clung like sin. A low V-neckline revealed just enough curve to make my cock ache, and the fabric shimmered like it was spun out of hellfire itself.
Her hair was loose, spilling in waves down her shoulders.
She looked fucking delicious—soft, vulnerable, womanly power in every sway of her hips as she descended.
Scott saw it too and wickedly licked his lips.
And I wanted to kill him for it.
If I had my way, his eyes would be the last thing I’d take from him. I’d rip them out with my bare hands so he’d never look at her again. I could see myself doing it—blood streaking my palms, his screams muffled by the carpet.
I swallowed it back, my jaw aching with the force of restraint.
You fucking cheat on her as much as you can, and now what? You think you will come back and fuck her with your dirty dick?
“Teyonah,” Scott raised the papers like a man toasting at a funeral. “Court order. You should read it, sweetheart.”
Her face went taut. “What the hell is this? What sort of court order?”
“Judge Coleman signed it.” Scott slapped the paper against his thigh, smug. “Six months cohabitation. That means I’m moving back in.”
“Absolutely not!” She crossed her arms. “You don’t get to just waltz in and—”
“Oh, I do.” He smiled like a wolf. “Read the court order. I’m legally allowed. You can fight it, sure, but until then, this is my house too.”
I stepped closer. “You should lower your voice. The kids are sleeping.”
Scott flicked his gaze at me, scanning the lines of my arms under the scrubs. His lip curled. “And who the fuck are you again? What are you doing here this late?”
Teyonah’s chin lifted. “That’s none of your business.”
“The hell it isn’t.” He stalked closer, waving the papers. “You rented out the basement without telling me? Without consulting me? Who is this guy? Some stray you picked up at the hospital? He has fucking scrubs on.”
“You don’t get to know shit.” Her voice cut sharp. “This is also my house—the one you happily raced out of to go with Cindy or whatever her name is, so what I choose to do is my decision.”
“I’ll be talking to Judge Coleman about this.”
My blood surged hot.
I imagined grabbing his jaw and snapping it sideways, the crack echoing down the hallway. Then, I imagined dragging him out by his throat and leaving him twitching on the driveway like roadkill.
Instead, I stood very still.
Don’t make this worse for her.
Then I saw it.
The tremor in her hands as she clutched her arms tighter across her chest. The rapid rise and fall of her breathing—shallow, quick, pulling oxygen like she couldn't get enough.
Her pupils were dilated, fight-or-flight fully engaged, cortisol flooding her system faster than her body could metabolize it.
All the work from last night—the careful unwinding of her nervous system, the time in the shower I'd spent coaxing her body out of its perpetual state of hypervigilance—gone.
Shattered.
In less than three minutes, this bastard had undone everything.
Her autonomic nervous system had kicked into overdrive: sympathetic activation firing on all cylinders.
Heart rate probably spiking to 120, 130 beats per minute.
Blood shunting away from her digestive organs, pooling in her major muscle groups, preparing her to run or collapse.
Her adrenal glands pumping out adrenaline and norepinephrine like a broken faucet.
She was back in survival mode.
And it broke me.
Goddamn it.
I stepped forward.
My fist came up.
Not a thought.
Pure instinct.
Pure animal protection.
Teyonah's eyes went wide. She shook her head—sharp, frantic. No. Don't.
Scott caught the movement and whipped around, his gaze bouncing between us. "What the—"
I forced my hand to unclench.
Forced my arm back down to my side.
My entire body vibrated with the effort of standing still.
Scott watched me. “What’s going on over here, buddy? Don’t be a hero. Just go back downstairs.”
I spoke through clenched teeth, “Have some respect when you talk to her.”
“Who are you to tell me how to talk to my wife?”
Teyonah hurried over to my side. “Hold on, Scott. He is—”
“You’d better not have been near my boys!”
If he’d known how close I was to them, he’d have choked on his own spit.
Due to Teyonah being closer, I steadied myself. Her body was already in overdrive.
Scott eyed me. “Because if you were around my boys, I’ll tell the judge. Coleman will eat you alive, and Teyonah will lose custody faster than you can flex those muscles.”
Something snapped in me.
In my head, I was already moving. My fist breaking his teeth. My knee caving in his ribs. His stupid fucking papers scattering like white confetti while I strangled the smugness out of his throat.
I wanted to see his blood paint the floorboards.
I wanted to hear the wet gurgle of his last apology.
I wanted to drag his corpse to the basement and carve him open on my table.
A dissection of arrogance.
A lesson in silence.
But upstairs, Oliver must have shifted in his bed. His cough drifted down the hallway.
The sound stopped me cold.
Teyonah glanced at me, her eyes wide with pleading, though her voice stayed calm. “Dominic. Please. . .go downstairs. Thank you for. . .everything. I’ve got this.”
My chest locked. “No.”
“Please.” Softer this time, but firm.
Every part of me rebelled.
I wanted to crush Scott until he was nothing but a stain. I wanted to prove to her that I could end this problem once and for all.
But the kids.
Her kids.
Our kids.
They were upstairs, safe in their beds, trusting this house to stay whole.
If I killed him now, I’d ruin that peace from Teyonah screaming in horror.
Goddamn it!!!!
My heart dragged itself out of my chest and bled all over the carpet as I stepped back.
Scott smirked like he’d won.
If only he knew how close he’d come to death several times tonight.
“Call me if you need me.” I clenched my jaw, felt my molars grind, and turned toward the basement stairs.
Why, God? Why do this to me?
Each step away felt like exile and a murder I couldn’t commit.
Behind me, Scott’s voice slithered into the dark. “That’s what I thought! Now back to you!”
I fisted my hands.
You son of a bitch. I’m going to fucking get rid of you sooner than later. Fuck your court order. I’ll kill Judge Coleman too, if I have to.