While My Husband Cheated, I Married His Powerful Brother

The room was still heavy with silence.

Eleanor knelt on the floor, her tears staining the carpet, her shoulders shaking. The Old Madam had closed her eyes. Beatrice and Harold stood frozen. Phillip looked like he had aged ten years in ten minutes.

Dorian stood at the center of it all, his gray eyes fixed on Eleanor.

"Please," Eleanor whispered. Her voice was raw. Broken. "Dorian, please. I’m begging you. Show mercy. I’ve been a part of this family for thirty years. I’ve served your grandmother. I’ve raised your cousins. I’ve given everything to this house."

She crawled toward him. Her knees scraped against the floor.

"I will never antagonize Veyra again," she said. "I swear it. On my life. On my children’s lives. I will leave her alone. I will stay out of her way. I will do whatever you ask. Just please—please don’t destroy me."

Her hands reached for his pant leg. She clutched the fabric.

Dorian looked down at her. His face was unreadable.

"Wrongdoing must inevitably be met with punishment," he said. His voice was quiet. Final.

Eleanor’s hands fell away. She sat back on her heels. Her face was pale. Her eyes were hollow.

"What form will the punishment take?" she asked.

The room leaned forward. Everyone was curious. Beatrice held her breath. Harold’s jaw was tight. Phillip stared at the floor.

Even the Old Madam opened her eyes.

Veyra watched from her corner. Her heart was pounding. She did not know what Dorian would do. Would he send Eleanor away? Have her arrested? Strip her of her status?

She waited.

Dorian did not answer immediately. He let the silence stretch. Let Eleanor sweat.

Then he turned.

His gray eyes found Veyra.

"How do you wish to punish her?" he asked.

Veyra blinked. She thought she had misheard.

"What?"

"How do you wish to punish Eleanor?" Dorian repeated. His voice was calm. Matter-of-fact. "She wronged you. She tried to destroy you. She put your life at risk and the life of our child. The punishment is yours to decide."

The room erupted.

Beatrice’s mouth fell open. Harold shook his head. Phillip looked like he had been slapped.

Eleanor’s face went red. Then white. Then red again.

Veyra stared at Dorian. Her mind was racing. He was giving her the authority to decide Eleanor’s fate. Her. The outsider. The high school dropout. The woman they had all treated like dirt.

She did not know what to say.

"You can’t be serious," Eleanor said. Her voice was high. Desperate. "You can’t give her that power. She’s nobody. She’s—"

Dorian held up his hand. Eleanor stopped.

"She is my wife," Dorian said. "The mother of my child. The woman who saved my grandmother’s life and my niece’s life. If anyone has the right to decide your punishment, it is her."

Eleanor’s composure shattered.

"What right does she have?" Eleanor screamed. She pointed at Veyra. "What right does she have to punish me? She’s not family. She’s not a Thorne. She’s a stranger who crawled in from the gutter and spread her legs for—"

"Enough."

Dorian’s voice was ice.

Eleanor’s mouth snapped shut.

"I said she is my wife," Dorian said. "That makes her the Matriarch of the Thorne Family. She has every right to decide your punishment."

Eleanor laughed. It was a bitter, ugly sound.

"Matriarch?" She looked around the room. "Does anyone here acknowledge her as Matriarch?"

No one spoke.

Beatrice looked away. Harold stared at the floor. Phillip studied his hands. The Old Madam’s face was unreadable.

Eleanor smiled. "See? No one. She’s not our Matriarch. She’ll never be our Matriarch. She’s nothing."

Dorian did not flinch. "I don’t care whether others acknowledge her or not. She is my wife and that is enough."

Veyra’s heart was pounding.

She had never expected this. Never imagined that Dorian would give her this power. She was acutely aware of everyone watching her. Waiting. Judging.

Eleanor came from a powerful family. Her connections ran deep. If Veyra imposed a harsh punishment, there would be consequences. Retaliation. Eleanor’s relatives would demand answers.

She could not afford to make enemies she could not handle.

She took a breath.

"I don’t want a harsh punishment," Veyra said.

Eleanor’s eyes widened. Hope flickered across her face.

Veyra continued. "I only ask for one thing. An apology. A genuine apology. In front of everyone. For everything she did."

The room was silent.

Dorian’s eyes were on her. She could not read his expression. But something in his face softened. Just barely.

He was pleased. She could tell.

Eleanor’s hope turned to outrage.

"An apology?" Eleanor scoffed. "You want me to apologize to you? After everything? You think you deserve an apology from me?"

"I think you owe me one."

"I owe you nothing." Eleanor crossed her arms. "I would rather be confined to my room for a month than apologize to the likes of you."

Veyra looked at Dorian. She let her face fall. Let her shoulders slump. She made herself look small. Vulnerable and wronged.

She did not say a word.

Dorian’s jaw tightened.

"Then here is your punishment," he said. His voice was cold. Final. "You will apologize to Veyra. And you will be confined to the Meditation Room for three days."

Eleanor’s mouth opened.

"Refuse to apologize," Dorian continued, "and you will be confined for one week. No visitors. No phone calls. No exceptions."

The room gasped.

The Meditation Room was a small, bare cell at the back of the estate. No windows. No furniture. Just a concrete floor and a locked door. It was used for the most serious punishments. For family members who had disgraced the name.

Three days in that room was harsh. One week was brutal.

Eleanor’s face went gray.

Her legs wobbled. She stumbled. Caught herself on the arm of the sofa. Her eyes were wide. Disbelieving.

"One week," she whispered. "In the Meditation Room."

Dorian did not answer.

Eleanor looked at Phillip. He would not meet her eyes. She looked at Beatrice. Beatrice looked away. She looked at the Old Madam. The Old Madam’s face was stone.

"No," Eleanor said. "No, you can’t. You can’t do this to me. I’m family. I’m—"

"You have ten seconds to decide," Dorian said. "Apologize or face the week."

Eleanor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

She looked at Veyra. At the woman she had tried to destroy. At the woman who now held her fate in her hands.

The punishment left Eleanor utterly aghast. She nearly lost her footing.

Her knees buckled. She grabbed the back of the sofa to keep from falling.

The room waited.