Chapter 19 - THE MARRIAGE BEHIND CLOSED DOORSThe final fracture came in December.
Sloane had arranged a holiday charity gala.
Cameras.
Donors.
Virginia society.
She wanted Blake beside her.
He agreed.
Then she revealed the seating chart.
Evelyn and Harrison were listed at the head table.
Blake frowned.
“They’re not coming.”
“They haven’t responded.”
“They won’t.”
“They should.”
“Sloane.”
“What?”
“Did you invite them because you want them there or because people are asking questions?”
Her expression gave the answer.
Blake pushed the chart away.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Using my parents as props.”
She laughed.
“You suddenly have morals?”
“Yes.”
The word stopped them both.
Blake stood.
“Apparently I needed some.”
Sloane’s face hardened.
“You are not putting this all on me.”
“I’m not.”
“You shoved her.”
“I know.”
“You humiliated her.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t make you.”
“I know.”
Each answer took something from Sloane.
Her defense had always depended on Blake sharing blame.
But he was no longer using shared blame to reduce his own.
She stepped closer.
“And I slapped her.”
“Yes.”
“I was angry.”
“Yes.”
“She provoked me.”
“No.”
Sloane froze.
Blake looked directly at her.
“She didn’t.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I’ve seen enough.”
“What?”
He had finally asked Martin to show him the footage.
Not because Harrison demanded it.
Because Blake needed to see.
Martin agreed only after Evelyn gave permission.
Blake watched once.
That was enough.
He saw his mother’s confusion.
Sloane blocking her.
The slap.
Then himself.
His own face.
Cold.
Annoyed.
Embarrassed.
He had barely recognized the man.
“I watched it.”
Sloane went pale.
“You had no right.”
Blake almost laughed.
“That’s what bothers you?”
“She recorded me without permission.”
“It’s a security camera.”
“Who else saw?”
Again.
Not:
Was Evelyn okay?
Who saw?
Blake finally understood his wife’s hierarchy.
Image first.
Truth second.
People third.
“I’m leaving.”
Sloane stared.
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
He packed a suitcase.
She followed him upstairs.
“You walk out now, we may not recover.”
He stopped.
Looked at her.
“Maybe we shouldn’t.”
For the first time since their wedding, Sloane looked truly afraid.
Not of scandal.
Not money.
Loss.
May you like
Blake saw it.
And still left.
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