Sixty-one

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"That's my seat. Only mine!" I state flatly when I find Patrick on my office chair like a Pharaoh on his throne.

"Oh." He tilts his head with amusement, his annoying nonchalance getting on my nerves. "Of course, butterfly. It's your seat, and yours alone. Because I want it to be that way," he says and stands up at once.

"Excuse me?" I snap stoutly, brows crinkled.

Patrick's lips curve into a wicked smile as he takes a stride around my desk, wearing a dark blue jacket over the full white shirt and well-fit dress pants. No matter how fine and classy he may look, which drives other women out there insane, he still grosses me out to the bones.

"Basically, you're here because I allow you to be, Mia. Your business, your bank accounts, your independence that you preach about nonstop like a parrot—which, by the way, makes me sick—is only possible because I decided to let you fly, butterfly." He halts right before me, his one hand buried inside the pocket of his pants.

My fists clench tightly, no amount of self composure capable of taking this rage I'm feeling inside. He's gotten on my last nerve and I don't know how far I can go if he keeps pushing me like this.

"I can take everything in a blink of an eye, Mia. I can destroy you in a snap of a finger if I want to," he says coldly and my body shivers. "You know I can do that, don't you?" He grins sinfully.

"Over my dead body will I ever allow you to destroy one thing that I worked so hard for!" Teeth gritted, my voice reverberates through the walls of my bruised heart. I saunter even closer to him and gaze him straight in the eyes. "If you touch even a single thing with my name on it . . . I swear, Patrick Kingston, I'll make you regret the day you chose to put these damn rings on my finger!"

Angrily, I use all of my strength to pull my engagement and wedding band off my finger. They both fall out and bounce on the floor, clattering and rolling until they still in silence. I pant loudly, fed up.

Patrick's forehead creases and a frown appears on his face. His silver eyes flame up when he gazes at the pair of beautiful rings on the floor. He's surprised and furious, and I no longer care about it.

"And don't ever think that I stayed in that mansion with you for nine years as a Barbie doll who can't do anything to defend herself from you. I know you, Patrick! I know you well enough to play your shrewd games so don't you dare threaten me!" I yell repulsively and a tight knot on my chest makes it hard for me to breathe.

"What are you talking about?" Patrick clutches my neck and upturns my jaw until I face him levelly. He looks stiff, the vein on his neck protruding and his lips trembling in a seething manner. "I'm talking to you!" he demands.

Despite his grip, I don't budge.

"I want you to leave me alone, Patrick! That's what I'm talking about!" I reply boldly and his fingers on my neck burn my skin. "You've hurt me enough, now let me go before we kill each other!"

His jaw ticks and he shuts his eyes tight in response. "Mia, don't make me—"

"Make you what?" I lash out, letting him grip me as tightly as pleases. "You've already slapped me, you've already tried to rape me, and now you're here strangling me once again. Why don't you just kill me now, huh? Why don't you just finish what you started so we can end this marriage once and for all? I'm tired of everything! I'm tired of being your wife! I'm tired of all the stabbing in the back so do it now like a real man! Kill me!"

Our eyes blaze together but I don't quit. I won't fight physically this time. No, I won't put my baby at risk so I'll use whatever I can use to make him feel what I feel.

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