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COLTON

Sometimes one has to make a choice—an important one. Sometimes I've had to pull the trigger when I wanted more answers, and sometimes I've had to push my family away in order to keep them safe. But right now, the choice in front of me, cuts so much deeper than any choice in my past.

The front door of my house shuts behind me, and I move through the house, chasing my wife's quick feet. I want to punish her for going alone to see Kenneth—I want her ass so red and purple she can't sit for weeks. But my mind is spinning, because I also want her to be happy.

The weirdest sensation I've ever felt spreads through my body as I ascend the stairs and follow Liana into her room, and find her already seated on the floor against her bed, the pictures of her parents and the paper with all her inheritance in front of her.

I come to a stop in front of her, and then I hunch down and pick up the pictures. The woman—her mother—is beautiful. Was beautiful. Her skin was darker than Liana's, but no less shining and golden. It's clear that her full lips and slightly upturned nose comes from her mother, and those are things of utter beauty on my little slut. Harold was pale, much more like me, and his eyes were the same color as Liana's. He also has a dimple I've seen a hint of on her cheek, but she mostly looks like her mom.

I can't imagine not remembering my mother. My father I'd love to forget, but...I have no idea what she's going through, what her thoughts are, yet I want to help.

The photographs find their place on the floor again, and I put my hand on her knee, my thumb rubbing the fabric of her jeans softly.

"Will you stay with me?" I ask, not allowing myself to second guess the words.

Her head whips up, confusion dancing behind her eyes. "What?"

"I mean," I start, clearing my throat, "you have all of that, so...will you stay here?"

"I didn't realize I had a choice," she counters, crossing her arms. She still looks pained, and even though the wind and cold from outside dried her tears, new ones create wet streaks down her beautiful cheeks. "I thought it was still stay or be killed."

I nod slowly. "Not necessarily." I move my hand and pick up the papers listing all the properties in her name. "If you still show up to public appearances as my wife, you don't have to live here when you have other options," I say softly, scanning the addresses for any residential buildings. "Though, I've grown fond of the company."

She huffs, and then she sniffles. "You've grown fond of the sex," she corrects.

"That, too." I keep staring into those beautiful eyes, my heart clenching at the thought of her leaving—and I can't fathom why. I don't get attached, and I sure as hell don't have any feelings, so how I'm reacting like this at the mere thought of her moving out, I don't know. Maybe I just like that the house isn't empty when I come home anymore. "As much as I'd love to keep my word and kill you if you leave, I know for sure I'll be the first—and only—suspect should they find your body. My wife suddenly has a shit ton of money and properties, and goes missing, or ends up dead? They'll rip apart every little nook and cranny of my life, and that's not something I want."

"Of course." She rolls her eyes at me, and then she stares at the two pictures on the floor between us again. "I don't know where I'd go, anyway," she mutters, and I struggle to get the air down into my lungs as I realize she's saying she'll stay. Or might stay. She lifts her gaze, teary eyes meeting mine. Fuck. Whoever's to blame for this being kept from her for so long is not going to be breathing for much longer. She says, "I don't know what to do with all this, Colton."

I nod slowly, not really understanding, though I want to. I've had all of my money and properties since I was born, while she...it was ripped away, and she can't even remember her life before that. A part of me feels bad for her and wants to hold her until I can make it better; another wants to rip the world apart until I find who set her house on fire and killed her parents.

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