Page 37 of Forsaken Vows

“I’m fine.” My voice cracked on the lie.

He raised an eyebrow. “What was that about anyway? You’re working with Sam now?”

I stood. Slowly. Carefully. Afraid if I moved too fast, he might smell Sam on me.

“He hired me. Said I’d be helping him with property flips. It’s just part-time.”

Mark scoffed. “You don’t need to work.”

I stopped walking. That sentence—those five little words—dug under my skin like splinters.

“And why is that, Mark?” I turned to face him. “Because you said so?”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, like I was annoying him. “Come on, Zane. Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m not. I went to the bank today to get money out. To buy myself something I wanted.” I paused. “And you know what I found out?”

He stared, silent.

“My name’s not on the bank account. Not one of them.”

His mouth opened, closed. “You have the card—”

“But not with my name on it, Mark. And I bet my name’s not on the deed to this house either. How much money do you make? Do you have life insurance?”

He shook his head, like I was being unreasonable. “You want to talk about this now? Because our neighbor gave you a pity job?”

I took a step closer. I wanted to smack him. “I can’t have a baby. You said you didn’t want me working. What am I supposed to do with myself, Mark? Just sit here in this house and pretend the walls aren’t closing in on me?”

His eyes flashed. “Don’t do that. Don’t twist this. I’ve taken care of you—”

“Exactly,” I snapped. “You take care of me. Like a pet. Like I’m not supposed to want anything of my own.”

He leaned on the counter, sipping his bourbon like I wasn’t on the verge of snapping. “I just think you should be patient. Maybe something better will come along.”

Better? Sam had already come along. I was letting Mark ruin him for me.

“You come home late every night,” I said, quieter now, trying to make myself sound like I cared. “Is it your job that keeps you out, or is it her?”

He looked up. The flicker in his eyes wasn’t guilt. It was panic—fear of being found out. But he covered it up quick.

“I think we’re both tired,” he said instead, brushing past my accusation like it wasn’t real. “And if you really want to work, then sure. It’s your decision. You have my permission. No one’s stopping you.”

Permission. He wanted to frame it like he was letting me. Notjust agreeing so I’d change the subject.

He came toward me then, arms out, trying to embrace me.

But as soon as he touched me, my whole body recoiled.

I could still smell Sam on my skin. Still feel him between my thighs. Touching him felt like betrayal. Thinking about what Sam did to me made my pussy ache.

I pushed Mark away gently. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

He frowned. “Zane—”

“I need space,” I said flatly. “You understand, right? Or do you want access to me tonight so you can tell me again how replaceable I am?”

He didn’t speak again. Just stood there looking confused and inconvenienced. Like I’d disturbed the little fantasy life he’d built for us.

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