Paper cuts and Poison Kisses
The lawyer’s voice was too calm for what he was doing.
“Mrs. Reyes,” he said, placing the envelope on the table between them, “this is a formal notice of Liliana Cross’s petition for joint custody of the minor, Dylan Reyes. Filed under family law and inheritance rights in the state of New York.”
Cynthia stared at the envelope, unable to look away. It sat there like a live bomb.
“I assume Caleb has explained the situation?” Liliana asked smoothly, brushing invisible lint from her designer sleeve.
“Explained?” Cynthia laughed once, dry and sharp. “He didn’t even admit the boy existed until your grand entrance yesterday.”
Liliana smiled. “That sounds like him. Always hiding the ugly parts until they explode.”
Cynthia’s hands tightened around her arms. “Why now?”
“Because Caleb is dying,” Liliana said bluntly. “And I’m not going to wait for the funeral to fight for what belongs to my son.”
The room fell into silence so thick it pressed against her ribs.
Behind her, Caleb stood like a statue. Cold. Still. Unreadable.
And in that silence, something in Cynthia cracked.
She remembered the news report. Her father, arrested. Their company seized. Caleb had promised he wouldn't expose him—and then done exactly that. Cold betrayal wrapped in a wedding band.
So maybe it was her turn.
Cynthia turned to Liliana. “I’ll support your petition.”
The air shifted like a knife drawn in a dark room.
Caleb’s voice was low. Dangerous. “What did you say?”
She didn’t flinch. “You made your moves. Now I’ll make mine.”
Liliana looked pleasantly surprised, like someone just handed her a diamond she hadn’t paid for. “Smart girl.”
The lawyer nodded and began pulling more papers from his briefcase. Caleb stepped forward, slowly, the heat rolling off him in waves.
“Cynthia,” he said, voice cutting, “if you sign anything—anything—in support of her claim, I will make sure your father rots in prison.”
Her heart stuttered.
“You already destroyed him,” she snapped.
“I exposed him,” Caleb corrected. “But he’s not convicted. Not yet. You want me to make that happen? Try me.”
Cynthia’s hands shook. “You’re a monster.”
“You knew that the day you married me.”
The lawyer stood. “It’s best we come back another time,” he said quickly.
Liliana gave one last satisfied smirk before gathering her coat. “Think about it, Cynthia. Women like us—we’re just footnotes to men like him. Unless we flip the story.”
They left.
And the moment the door clicked shut, Cynthia exploded.
“You threatened my father. You broke your word. You let me think he was safe while you planned his fall—”
Caleb closed the distance between them in two strides. “And you just sided with the woman trying to cut my son into my coffin.”
“You deserved it!” she shouted. “You use people like they’re currency. You humiliated me, lied to me, then act like I owe you something?”
Their chests were nearly touching, breaths colliding in the space between them. Her fury made her tremble. His silence made her burn.
“You’re cruel,” she whispered.
“And you’re a fool,” he snapped back. “You think you’re immune to this? To me?”
He grabbed her wrist not roughly, not painfully but enough to stop her.
And for a second, the anger pulsed into something else. Something too close. Too raw.
Cynthia’s breath hitched.
He looked at her like she was fire and he’d finally decided to burn.
Then he kissed her, Hard. Like punishment. Like apology.
She should’ve pushed him away. But her body betrayed her before her mind could catch up.
Hands in hair. Fingers on skin. Gasping. Pulling. Heat pouring out of every part of her that still hated him but wanted him more.
He backed her into the wall. The sound of her back hitting it was nothing compared to the way he tore the silk robe open like paper. Her leg curled around him, her lips bruising under his kiss, her nails clawing at his shoulder as if they could undo every secret, every lie, every betrayal.
And when he slid inside her, everything vanished, rage, fear, doubt, until only him remained.
Her enemy. Her husband. Her ruin.
---
She lay in the aftermath, breathless and tangled in silk sheets, heart racing like a drum at war.
Caleb didn’t speak. Just stood, shirtless at the window, one hand in his hair.
He looked broken like a man who didn’t know whether he’d just taken something or given it away.
Cynthia didn’t know what she felt but it didn’t matter because her phone buzzed. She reached for it, still dazed, still bare.
A text. From Marcus.
Did you enjoy your new husband, Cinderella? Hope he doesn’t mind sharing.
I wonder what the press will think of this...
Play nice, or I drop the full version.
Attached: a video.
She tapped it open with a shaking thumb. It was a video of Her, naked and in bed. Her face. Her voice.
Except— It wasn’t real. But it looked real enough to ruin her.
Cynthia’s hand flew to her mouth.
Behind her, Caleb turned, “What is it?” he asked.
Her lips moved, but no sound came. Only one word existed in her mind now.
Blackmail.
