now that my father and brother are dead.
I pace the length of the corridor while I wait, using my phone to search the directory of Society doctors. Then it occurs to me that I cannot use a Society doctor to examine her at risk of the truth being revealed. I need her fucking pregnant, and I need it now.
Christ.
I swipe a trembling hand through my hair and consider my options. I'll have to bring someone else in. That's the only way.
I'm scrolling through names of specialists from other states when the door to the courtroom opens again, and a guard summons me back inside. The Councilors are waiting for me in silence, their faces empty. I want to believe I know what they will say, but nothing in life is ever certain.
"You are to bring your wife to her assigned court date with visible proof that you have fulfilled the punishment as laid out. We will see it in person," Hildebrand says.
"As you wish."
"We are only granting this request on one condition," he adds.
"Yes?" I reply hoarsely.
"We want the name of the accomplice who acquired the poison for her. Either you get it out of her by the time of her court date, or we will imprison her until she produces a viable name."
"She will have a name for you," I assure them.
"Then this session is adjourned for now. We will reconvene next week. You are dismissed."
I'm walking through the courtyard of the compound with only one intent in mind. I need to get home. Before Ivy's court date, some things must be in order, and I can no longer put them off.
Fury is a living, breathing animal inside me. I lied to The Tribunal to save her, and in doing so, I put my family at risk. It isn't just me I have to think about. If this goes badly, Mercedes will bear the brunt of the impact too.
Fucking poison.
That's what my wife is. She's poisoning my thoughts. My every waking moment. My hunger for her. This need that is turning me into someone I don't even recognize anymore. It has to stop. I have to fix this.
"Sir!" someone calls out as I breeze past them, but I ignore the voice, continuing to my car where Marco is waiting.
"Mr. De La Rosa, please!" The breathless voice follows me out of the courtyard, lingering behind me as Marco opens the door for me.
I turn to see a girl I recognize as Jackson Van der Smit’s wife. She’s a face I know well, considering how much Mercedes dislikes her. Young, innocent, and heavily pregnant. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as my eyes settle on her belly. They haven’t even been married that long. It looks as though Jackson doesn’t waste any time. I can’t help but wonder when I will see my own wife heavy with my child. A thought that only serves to irritate me further.
"What do you need?" I demand.
She flinches at my tone, shrinking into herself and then squares her shoulders, seeming to rebound quickly with her primary motivation in mind.
"I was hoping I might speak to you a moment to request a visit with your wife. If you don't mind."
"My wife?" I growl.
I narrow my gaze at this girl who can’t be much younger than Ivy, but she looks much younger somehow. I don't know what she could possibly want to speak to her about.
"How do you know my wife?"
She hesitates to answer, and it only encourages my suspicions. Surely, she couldn't be the one who gave Ivy the poison. She is far too innocent for that. But I have been fooled by innocence before. Eli's innocent request for my family and me to attend that meeting in place of his changed my life irrevocably. If I have learned anything since then, it is that anyone can be a traitor.
"We spoke at the gala," the girl finally confesses. "I'm Colette. Jackson's wife."
"I know who you are," I answer coldly. "Why do you want to speak to my wife?"
"She said she'd like for us to visit sometime, and I just thought... I was hoping I could come visit her, considering the circumstances."
"No."
I slide into the back seat of the car, and Marco leans forward to shut the door when Colette offers me one last parting thought.
"She didn't do it. I know she couldn't have—"
The rest of her declaration is cut short when the car door shuts, sealing me in with my own turbulent thoughts. Colette