Addie kicked the whiskey bottle away from Rick's flailing hand. It rolled across the floor, clinking against the broken glass.
She dropped to her knees beside Sarah.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," Sarah sobbed, but she wasn't. Her face was swelling.
Council leaned back in the cool leather of his car seat, never taking his eyes off the screen. He should leave. He should call the police. But he couldn't move. He was transfixed.
"He's blind!" Rick screamed from the floor. "My eyes!"
"Police are five minutes out, Rick," Addie lied. Her voice was ice. "Get out the back door or go to jail. Your choice."
Rick scrambled up, crashing into furniture, whining like a kicked dog. He stumbled toward the kitchen and out the back door.
The silence that followed was heavy.
Sarah grabbed Addie's hand. Her fingers were stained with blood.
"Addie... Leo? Is Leo okay?"
"He's safe. He's with a neighbor."
"And the husband?" Sarah asked. "The billionaire? Is he treating you okay?"
Council held his breath. He leaned in closer to the speaker relaying the audio.
Addie let out a short, bitter laugh. She grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the kitchen and pressed it to Sarah's cheek.
"Auntie, don't worry. It's just a transaction."
"A transaction?"
"I need the marriage certificate to get full custody of Leo. He needs a boring wife to fix his stock price. That's it. We use each other."
Council's eyes narrowed. So the report was accurate, he thought. She needs a stable home for the boy. But the report said nothing of this... ferocity. It didn't capture the desperation. The pieces were clicking into place, but the picture they formed was more complex than he'd anticipated.
"But... these rich men," Sarah whispered. "If he hurts you..."
Addie's face softened. She looked tired. So incredibly tired.
"I can handle him. I just need to survive until the adoption is finalized. Once Leo is mine, legally mine, I'll divorce him. I'll sign whatever he wants. I don't want his money. I just want my boy."
Council stiffened.
She doesn't want the money.
The realization hit him like a physical blow. She wasn't a gold digger. She was a mercenary. But she was fighting for a child, not a payout.
"I have to go back," Addie said, standing up. "He's moving in tonight. If I'm not there, he might leave. And I can't lose this chance."
She wiped her hands on her jeans. She took a deep breath, and Council watched her put the mask back on. The shoulders slumped slightly. The fierce look vanished. She became the quiet, obedient wife again.
She walked toward the front door.
Council immediately spoke into his earpiece. "Pull back. Return to the primary residence. Now." He moved fast. His car was already pulling away before she even stepped outside.
He watched her run down the street to hail a cab in his rearview mirror.
He waited until she was gone. Then he picked up his phone.
"Marcus," he said into his phone. "Put a security detail on this address. 24/7. If that man comes back, have him arrested for trespassing. Make sure it sticks."
He got into his car. "Get me back to Queens. Fast."
Council was sitting on the lumpy sofa when Addie burst through the door. He had arranged his luggage to look untouched. He was scrolling on his phone, looking bored.
Addie was breathless. She smelled of sweat and stale alcohol-the smell of Rick's house.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bartlett," she gasped. "I... I went to the bodega. For milk."
Council looked up slowly. He locked eyes with her.
"Milk?" he asked.
"Yes."
He stood up. He walked toward her. He stopped inches away. He sniffed the air.
"You smell like a distillery," he said.
Addie froze. She pulled her coat tighter. "I... there was a drunk guy outside. He bumped into me."
It was a terrible lie.
Council stared at her. He knew everything. He knew where she had been. He knew she had swung a baseball bat at a man twice her size. He knew she planned to divorce him.
He felt a flicker of admiration.
"Go shower," he said, his voice cold. "I don't want my living quarters smelling like cheap whiskey."
Addie blinked, surprised he didn't push further. "Okay."
She rushed to the bathroom.
Council stood alone in the living room. He looked at the closed door.
Just a transaction, she had said.
Fine, he thought. Let's do business.
