Page 109 of Shattered Souls
“Bertram!” I bellow as I stomp into the house. My heels clack against the floor as I go straight for his office. Finding it empty, I storm into the kitchen to take a knife to these stupid restraints.
Rubbing my raw wrists, I huff as I march up the stairs to his bedroom. Also empty.
Where the hell is he?
Stomping back to the foyer, I’m breathing fire as I plant my hands on my hips and glare at the door, demanding he walk through it.
When that doesn’t work, because Bertram loves nothing more than to defy me, I snatch my clutch from where I dropped it on the table and pull out my phone.
Dialing his number, theringingof his phone echoes as I tap my foot and wait. Ihatewaiting. At this time of night, he shouldbe at home. He should have been wondering where I’ve been all this time! Worrying for my safety!
So where the hell is he?
Aaaggghhh!
Releasing my frustration, I shove the vase off the table. It shatters with a satisfyingcrash,water spilling onto the pristine floor and the flowers scattering.
I’ve had e-fucking-nough!
I’m so sick of being treated like dirt. Bertram has no appreciation for me.
My daughter sure as fuck doesn’t. Ungrateful bitch. I gave hereverything. I worked my ass off to land a man of Bertram’s wealth and prestige, and instead of saying thank you, she fucks him behind my back and has theaudacityto lie to me about it.
What does she think is going to happen now? Does she think Bertram will actually want her and her sniveling daughter? That the three of them will be one big happy family?
I scoff just at the notion. There is absolutely no way in hell that I will allow that ungrateful child to steal my life. My husband. My money.
Done with this bullshit, I flick to thefind my phoneapp that I had the good sense to connect to Bertram’s phone one night after I’d distracted him with sex and he’d stalked to the bathroom to clean up, leaving his cell unattended.
Bertram thinks he can play me, but I can play him too.
The blue dot shows his location as Halston. What would he be doing inHalstonat this hour? It’s the same spot on the map where he’s been on those nights when he doesn’t come home until I’m already in bed.
I’d assumed it was some insignificant whore, but Riley’s protestations, along with the ridiculous obsession my husband has with her, have me wondering…
Is this their love nest?
There must be somewhere they go to hook up since Bertram’s plan to have her under our roof failed. Naive, gullible Riley probably thinks she’ll have more time with him if they’re somewherealone. That he’ll leave me if she pulls him far enough away.
Honey, he won’t ever leave me for you.
And tonight, I’m going to prove it.
Grabbing the keys to my Bentley GT convertible, I pull up directions to my husband’s location and climb into the car. The engine roars as I slam my foot on the accelerator, kicking up gravel before flying down the driveway toward Halston.
I fume the entire journey, and as I pull up outside a quaint apartment building, that fury boils over. Glaring up at the darkened windows, my lip curls in a snarl as I imagine the two of them in there somewhere, wrapped up in each other. Probably laughing at me. Do they think I’m that stupid?
Throwing open the door, I stand on the sidewalk and stare at the building. The lights are off in all but one window. Given that it’s the middle of the night, it’s not surprising. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll readily go door to door until I find those sneaking, lying snakes.
I march toward the entrance of the building and pull open the double glass-fronted door. The lobby inside isokay—nothing fancy. If it were me Bertram was bringing here, I’d demand something better, but clearly, my daughter can be bought for cheaper—foolish girl.
Going straight to the wall of mailboxes, I scan the various names in search of a familiar one. A frown pulls at my lips when I notice one I recognize, only it’s not the name I’d been expecting.
Of course, I should have figured. Bertram isn’t stupid enough to tie his own name to a secret fuck pad. Furtive tasks like this are precisely what he pays David so handsomely for.Memorizing the apartment number beside David’s name on the mailbox, I stomp toward the stairs.
My anger has morphed into something glacial as I navigate stairs and hallways to apartment number eight. Finding the right one, I don’t bother with such formalities as knocking. They didn’t do me the courtesy of not fucking behind my back, so why should I offer them the courtesy of knocking? Instead, I twist the door handle and step into the apartment.
The lights are on inside, showing a vacant open-plan living-dining area. Giving it a cursory inspection, my focus moves to the hall leading to the bedrooms. My heels are silent on the thick carpet as I bypass the open doorways and approach the one at the end of the hall, which is closed. Pausing, I press my ear to the wood before quietly turning the handle. I slowly open the door, giving my eyes time to adjust to the dark interior as I peer into the room.
