Chapter 1 - The Weight of the Door
The heavy mahogany door of the master suite vibrated under Margaret Carter’s knuckles, a sharp, authoritative rhythm that shattered the quiet intimacy of our wedding night.
Nathan didn't move immediately. His gaze remained locked on the court order spread out on the silk bedspread, the stark black text reflecting in his dark eyes. The golden light of the bedside lamp caught the jagged, pale edges of the scars across my back, but for the first time since we had met, I didn't pull the robe over my shoulders to hide them.
"Nathan!" Margaret’s voice called out again through the wood, sharp, frantic, and dripping with malicious triumph. "Open this door right now! I know you think you married an angel, but the people downstairs have just sent up proof of what she really is!"
Nathan slowly raised his head. The shock in his eyes had hardened into a dangerous, glacial fury. Without looking away from me, he reached out, his hand covering mine where it rested on the edge of the folder.
"Stay here," he whispered, his voice dangerously low.
"Nathan, wait," I started, but he was already standing.
He walked across the plush carpet in his shirtsleeves, his jaw set, and threw the double doors wide open.
Margaret stood in the hallway, flanked by the senior house manager and a nervous-looking man holding a bulky laptop. She had clearly expected to find us caught off guard, perhaps scrambling for modesty or locked in an argument. Instead, she found her son towering over her, his expression so lethal that she actually took an involuntary step back.
"What is the meaning of this intrusion, Mother?" Nathan asked, his voice cutting like a razor.
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Margaret swallowed hard, rallying her composure as she lifted her chin. "Don't take that tone with me, Nathan. You brought a viper into this house, and I have the receipts to prove it."
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