Chapter 149
Chapter 149:
Dallas picked up the phone and read the message, his face impassive. Then he scrolled through something on his own phone.
“Victoria Hyde is currently at the Clinique La Prairie in Switzerland,” he said calmly. “She checked in two days ago for a revitalization package. I saw the flight manifest p>
Eliza looked up, her expression hardening. “He lied.” It wasn’t a question.
“He’s desperate,” Dallas said, deleting the message with a single swipe before tossing the phone back onto the cushion. “Desperate men lie p>
Eliza rubbed her arms against a sudden chill. “I feel dirty. Like his obsession is clinging to me. Like slime p>
“Go shower,” Dallas said, his voice gentling. “Wash him off p>
Eliza nodded. She went to her room and turned the water on as hot as she could bear, scrubbing her skin until it flushed pink, trying to scour away the memory of Anson’s desperate, hollow eyes.
When she emerged, wrapped in a towel, the apartment was quiet. Dallas was in his study, the door standing partially open. She could hear the low murmur of his voice on a conference call.
She didn’t want to disturb him. But the silence in the living room pressed in on her. Her mind refused to settle. You’re killing her. Even knowing it was a lie, the words had barbed themselves somewhere tender — a phantom ache from a wound that had long since scarred over.
𝖣оո’𝗍 m𝘪𝘴𝗌 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘳el𝗲𝖺𝘀𝘦s о𝗇
She wandered to the massive bar cart in the corner.
A bottle of bourbon sat there. The amber liquid caught the last of the afternoon light.
Just one glass, she thought. To numb the nerves. To stop the shaking.
She poured two fingers into a heavy crystal tumbler and drank it neat, without ice.
The burn was immediate and harsh, searing her throat. But as it settled in her stomach, it radiated a warmth that pushed back against the chill. Like a controlled fire, burning away the residue of the Hydes. She swirled the remaining liquid and watched the light refract through it. The tension in her shoulders began — slowly, slightly — to loosen.
“I don’t owe them anything,” she whispered to the glass. “I paid my debt p>
She took another small sip, savoring the burn this time. It wasn’t about getting drunk. It was about reclaiming some feeling of control, even if it had to come from a bottle.
The study door opened. Dallas walked out, rolling his neck slowly. He stopped when the faint scent of alcohol reached him.
He scanned the room and found her on the rug near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sprawling endlessly behind her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and slightly unfocused.
“Eliza?” He approached her carefully, the way one might approach a wounded animal.
She looked up and offered a small, wobbly smile — a sad, broken thing with no humor in it at all.
“Hey, husband,” she said, her words carrying a faint slur as she gestured with the half-empty glass. “Just… contemplating the view p>