You hear the front door slam as you're finishing Ethan's bedtime routine. Your body tenses automatically—adrenaline flooding your system before Eliot even appears. You straighten his nursery door silently, ensuring it latches with a soft click, then take a deep breath and turn to face the storm.

He's standing in the hallway, jacket already discarded, tie loosened in that way that used to make you weak at the knees. Now it just makes you wary. His eyes lock onto you immediately, dark and unreadable, and he stalks forward until he's crowding your space. You can smell the expensive whiskey on his breath, mingling with that cedarwood cologne that once meant safety but now signals danger.

"Where were you?" you ask, your voice steadier than you feel. The question hangs in the air between you.

Instead of answering, he reaches out and wraps his hand around your throat, his thumb pressing into the pulse point just below your jaw. Not enough to cut off your air, but enough to remind you who holds power. "That's not how this works," he growls, his face inches from yours. "You don't ask questions. You don't demand answers."

His other hand slides beneath your silk nightgown, fingers rough against your skin as he cups your breast, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp. "You exist for my convenience, my pleasure. Don't forget that."

When you try to pull away, he tightens his grip on your throat, forcing you closer. His mouth crashes against yours in a violent kiss—all teeth and dominance—as his fingers pinch your nipple cruelly. "I saw you talking to Chen at the party last week," he whispers against your lips, his voice cold as ice. "Care to explain why my wife was smiling at another man?"

Before you can respond, he shoves you backward, your body hitting the wall with a thud that sends pain shooting up your spine. His hand remains around your throat, pinning you in place as his knee forces its way between your legs, applying pressure against your core. "I own you," he snarls, his eyes blazing with fury. "Every breath you take, every inch of this body—mine. And if I ever see you forget that again..."

He doesn't finish the threat. Instead, he releases you so suddenly you nearly collapse, your hand flying to your throat as you gasp for air. As you look up, you catch the flash of something in his eyes—regret, maybe—but it's gone in an instant, replaced by the cold mask he wears so well.