Chapter 37: The loving husband
Kian stood at the tall window of his study, the glass cold beneath his forehead as he stared down at the ruined driveway.
His mind continued to dwell on the past, pulling him back to the years after Lance Kingston finally gave in.
He remembered the small, quiet wedding in the garden. He remembered holding Isabella’s hand while her father watched them with dark, suspicious eyes.
Kian had put on his best performance that day. He had smiled, kissed her forehead, and whispered soft things into her ear whenever Lance was close enough to see.
It had all been a game. A tedious, exhausting chore.
Every time he had to hold her hand in public, every time he had to sit through long, boring family dinners listening to her talk about books or gardens, he hated every second of it.
The only light in those long months came later in the night. Whenever Isabella fell asleep, he would slip out of the master bedroom, walk down the back stairs, and meet Alice in the estate gardens.
With Alice, he didn’t have to play the charming husband. He could complain about how useless Isabella was.
He could laugh about the furious look on Lance’s face whenever Kian put his arm around the old man’s daughter.
Pissing off Lance Kingston had been the only fun part of the entire marriage.
He had loved going against the old man’s wishes and taking his precious daughter right out from under his nose.
Kian blinked, catching his own reflection in the dark window pane.
He stopped his thoughts right there.
Why was he sitting here thinking about old memories? Why was he going over how much he used to hate playing the loving husband?
It didn’t matter anymore. None of it mattered.
Kian pulled back from the glass, taking a slow breath as he walked back to his desk.
He looked down at his unbuttoned shirt and the dark ash in the glass tray. He was acting ridiculous. He was acting like a man who had actually lost something important.
He called himself out right then and there. ’What the hell are you doing?’
The real Kian didn’t care about Isabella. He had never cared about her. Not when she was a bright eighteen-year-old girl laughing in the garden, and certainly not after she lost her sight.
He had always thought she was a spoiled, fragile child who lived on her father’s fortune.
He had spent the last two years trying to figure out a quiet way to get rid of her for good... a way that wouldn’t leave any blood on his hands or bring the police to his door.
Now, Aaron Kazarov had practically handed him the solution on a silver platter.
Isabella was out of the house. She had left willingly. She was publicly traveling with another man, which destroyed any standing she had to claim she was a victim.
He had the Kingston fortune. He had the company board in his pocket. He had everything he had spent long years fighting to get.
So why was he standing in the dark, turning himself inside out?
It made no sense. He tried to tell himself that his frustration was purely logical. He was just annoyed by how strange it all was. Isabella hated Aaron.
She had complained about him for years, calling him arrogant, dangerous, and cruel. It was completely absurd for her to suddenly hold his arm and leave the country with him.
Kian rubbed his hand over his face, his heavy palm dragging across his jaw.
’You’ve just been babysitting her for too long,’ he told himself.
That had to be it. Ever since the accident that took her sight, he had been the one directing her life.
He had been the one managing her room, her food, and her doctor visits. He had just grown used to having her around like an old piece of furniture.
It wasn’t love. It was just habit. He had been planning to end her life eventually anyway.
He took a sharp breath, straightening his back. The divorce would go through. He would take the rest of the accounts, settle the scandal with the press, and move on.
The heavy oak door of the study clicked open.
Alice stepped into the room, her dark heels clicking against the hardwood floor. She looked bright, lively, and full of energy, her dark dress accentuating every movement as she strutted across the carpet.
She carried a small glass of wine, her red lips curved into a triumphant smile.
Kian forced his chest to loosen. He forced his mouth to twist into a faint, answering smile as he looked at her.
Alice stopped in front of the desk, her dark eyes flashing with surprise when she saw him smiling. "Well. Look at you. I thought I’d find you tearing your hair out over the front gates."
"It’s just stone and iron," Kian said smoothly, his voice dropping into a calm, even tone.
"I saw the broadcast from the airport," Alice chuckled, setting her wine glass down on the desk. She walked around to his side of the room. "It looks like Aaron Kazarov really did a number on your ego today, taking your wife right out of the country."
A sudden, sharp flash of heat hit Kian’s chest at the mention of Aaron’s name. His hand tightened on the corner of his desk, his jaw setting hard.
"Aaron is going to pay for every single dollar of damage he caused on my property," Kian said, his voice dropping into a low, harsh growl. "He thinks he can step into my city and take what he wants without a fight."
Alice smiled broader, liking the fire in his voice. "Let him think whatever he wants for now. Honestly, Kian, this is the best thing that could have happened to us. Now that she’s making her little affair public, the divorce is going to be so easy."
Kian forced himself to nod. He pushed down the strange, hollow weight sitting in his stomach and forced his eyes to lock onto hers. "Yes. It seems so."