Page 142 of Vicious Butterfly
All my muscles lock at the same time.
No.
Fuck.
God fucking dammit.
A violent rip of terror—actual fucking terror—seizes my chest, burrowing bone deep as cold panic floods my veins.
Is this how Pinocchio became a real boy?
I pull air into my lungs slowly, before the room tilts on its axis. All this time keeping my real life away from Luke for him to find out from fucking Clarence? No fucking way.
“No,” Luke says. “Is there a problem?”
Is there?Clarence mouths, his weasel gaze on me.
If I tell him to go fuck himself, which is on the tip of my tongue, he’ll delight in telling Luke everything I don’t want him to know. Everything that will break his heart. If I shake my head, I confirm that he’s got something on me, and it’s over. Nothing matters after that; it’s a car rolling down a hill. Jumping in front of it only gets you run over.
Never reveal weakness. That’s an unbreakable rule. That’s how you lose the game.
That’s how Uncle Jasper died.
Chess pieces moved over and fucking over again until your opponent reveals their weakness. Then you strike. Use it against them.
With my lips tensed into a straight line, I shake my head, because just like every other fool when he’s in a trap, I hold on to the sliver of possibility that I might find another way out of this.
Clarence smiles. “No problem, Luke. Oh, look. That’s him calling on another line, what a coincidence.”
Ipull out a chair and sit, attempting to salvage whatever bit of command I have left. “Alright, tell me what you want in exchange for your silence,” I say, even though I know that’s an endless noose. Once someone has you on the hook, they see how far they can stretch your compliance.
Clarence already did that, implying he would tell Henry about the marriage to spur me into action with the inheritance. A test. It worked, so he moved on to bigger fish.
“Release Kline and divorce Ryan. Those are my two demands. I’ll sweeten the deal with my vote for you as next commissioner,” Henry says.
This motherfucker. But he’s predictable.
I scoff. “I’m disappointed. Teaming up with him? You couldn’t find anything else to use against me?” Henry glares, refusing to speak. “One star for creativity.”
I place an elbow on the table, leaning forward, resting my chin on my knuckles. If Clarence wants to intimidate me, he can do it under the full force of my gaze. “And you?”
His lip trembles. “A-All I’m promising is not to tell Luke. In exchange, I want to see your life in flames—no more brewery for you, every cent you have transferred to me, you penniless. Stripped. Humiliated.”
Good old-fashioned revenge for crimes he assumes I’ve committed.
“But that’s not even the best part. You’re going to break Ryan’s heart, and it’s going to break yours at the same time.” He laughs. “You thought love couldn’t do the same thing to you that it does to the rest of us.”
Can’t really argue with him there. I did think that.
“But if I divorce Ryan, the will is null and void anyway.”
“Not if I overlook this blip. You’ll have to find a new partner, but you’ve got time. Luke’s inheritance won’t be affected, so long as you comply. Only this time, maybe I’ll pick someone for you. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that the first time.”
Not flexing my hands into fists, not giving away what just the thought of giving up Ryan does to my insides takes every ounce of control I’ve ever conjured. My hand slides into my pants pocket, almost of its own accord, searching until fingers hit the glassy surface. I twist the doll’s eye, smoothing over the convex shape.
It’s not Ryan’s heartbeat, but it’ll have to do.
“I divorce Ryan, and he’s either your or Kline’s prisoner. You know I wouldn’t leave him to that fate.”
