Chapter 4 He Wants to Divorce Me

Clifford's pupils contracted sharply. He shoved the gun back into its holster, his face darkening even more than before.

I knew exactly what he was thinking. He thought I had stepped in to save Lucas.

And in a way, he wasn't wrong. Lucas couldn't die yet. He was the only one who knew where my father, Robbie, was. Once I found my father, I'd make sure Lucas suffered every ounce of pain I had endured… and more.

While I blocked the shot, Lucas scrambled away, half-crawling, half-stumbling, until the shadows swallowed him.

I reached for Clifford's sleeve, giving it a small tug. "Don't be angry. I only wanted to talk to him."

He didn't answer. The silence pressed down on me, heavy and cold. My throat tightened. I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around him, leaning in to kiss him.

He turned his head away before my lips could touch him. "Violet, you don't need to throw yourself in harm's way. If you want something, just tell me."

"You've got it wrong," I began, but he pushed me gently aside and walked away without looking back.

Watching his retreating figure, a dull ache spread through my chest. For three years, I had given him cold shoulders and silent stares. And yet, he had never raised a hand against me. Never even thrown a cruel word.

I wouldn't let this misunderstanding undo the fragile bridge we'd built. I hurried after him.

"Clifford, wait for me."

His stride lengthened, deliberate, as if he was trying to put distance between us. I went from walking to running.

The night was dim, the path uneven. I didn't see the jagged stone until my foot caught it. Pain exploded in my knee as I went down hard, the sharp edge slicing skin. Tears pricked my eyes before I could stop them. "It hurts…"

Clifford froze mid-step, his back still to me. I watched the tension in his shoulders loosen. Then he turned, striding toward me.

"You're a grown woman. How can you still trip over your own feet?" He crouched down to inspect the wound.

I reached for him, arms locking tight around his neck, holding on as if letting go would make him vanish.

His gaze flickered. "Violet…"

"Don't leave me." My voice was muffled against the warm skin of his neck, tears slipping down to touch him.

He sighed, pulling me into his arms. "I've fallen for you completely… there's no going back."

I tipped my head up, meeting his eyes through the blur. "Then I'll cling to you for the rest of my life. Is that alright?"

Something complicated moved in his expression. He didn't answer. Instead, he carried me back to the room.

He set the medical kit on the nightstand and began tending to my knee. Just then, his phone lit up beside it.

A message from Julia: [Violet, Lucas is badly hurt. The doctor says he might lose his ear. You should come see him.]

I glanced at Clifford. His hands kept moving, careful and precise, as if he hadn't seen the message. But I knew he had.

"I'm not going," I said before he could speak.

He gave a quiet "Alright" and said nothing more, crouching again to finish cleaning the cut.

I watched him, my chest heavy, like sand filling a hollow space.

"Honey…"

"The wound's shallow. You'll be fine by tomorrow. Get some sleep." He cut me off, then walked out quickly, as if afraid I'd ask him to stay.

I sighed. He was angry again. That was fine. I could be patient.

The phone buzzed again. I didn't need to check to know it was Julia. I dragged her number into the blacklist without hesitation.

By the time the first pale light brushed the horizon, sleep finally claimed me.

When I woke, the sun was high. My stomach reminded me it was past time for food.

At the corner of the hall, I caught the sound of hushed voices. Several maids clustered together.

"Did you hear the gunshot last night?"

"I did. They say Mrs. Gutierrez's lover showed up, and Mr. Gutierrez nearly killed him."

"She's shameless. If you ask me, Mr. Gutierrez should be with someone like Ms. Russell—smart, devoted…"

"Does Mr. Gutierrez know you're playing matchmaker for him?" I stepped forward, arms crossed, smiling lazily. "Maybe I should tell him myself… and suggest a divorce?"

Their faces drained of color. One by one, they dropped to their knees. "Mrs. Gutierrez, we were out of line. Please forgive us."

In three years, I had never interfered with the running of the Gutierrez Mansion. I had never even claimed the title of lady of the house. I knew they resented me. I just hadn't realized they would be so brazen about it.

"If you dislike me so much, I'll make it easy for you. I'll find you a new mistress…"

"Mrs. Gutierrez, we're sorry."

Fear twisted their faces, but I didn't soften. Letting them get away with this would only plant seeds for trouble later. I wouldn't allow anyone to threaten what I had with Clifford.

I ignored their pleas and walked to the dining room.

It was noon, but the kitchen held only a single scullery maid.

"Where's the chef?" I asked.

She bowed slightly, the gesture polite, but her eyes carried a flicker of disdain. "Mr. Gutierrez is not at home. The chef is resting."

"Call him in to cook."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Gutierrez. The chef serves only Mr. Gutierrez."

My eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?"

She swallowed hard. I knew she was lying. When Rosa had free access to the mansion, the chef had cooked for her more than once. Clearly, Rosa had more than one admirer among the staff.

"In that case… never mind." I let the words fall like a retreat.

But I went straight to Paxton, the butler, and told him to replace every servant in the house.

Paxton hesitated. "Mrs. Gutierrez… I'll need Mr. Gutierrez's approval."

"No need. I'll speak to him myself."

I returned to my room and changed into Clifford's favorite—an elegant white dress. Then I headed to his office.

Calling it an office was generous. The building was more of a private club, complete with bars, card rooms, a golf course, and a members-only lounge. Only the Gutierrez family could use it.

I'd been here before. The receptionist merely announced me, and I took the elevator straight to the top floor.

When the doors opened, a group spilled out from the conference room. Their eyes on me were sharp with dislike. Clifford's older lieutenants didn't bother to hide their contempt.

"She's nothing but a conniving whore. Why isn't she dead yet?"

"Keeping someone like her around will ruin the entire Gutierrez family."

The words cut like glass. I bit down hard, lowering my gaze to hide the sting.

I walked past them, into Clifford's office.

"Honey, have you eaten?" I tried to smile, to sound light.

Clifford reached into a drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, sliding it across the desk toward me. "Here."

"What is it?" I picked it up. The words at the top made my stomach drop.

It was a divorce agreement.