Ruptured Loyalty, Revived Love

The room fell into a heavy silence for a moment before Michael snapped out of his shock and rushed over to Allison. I couldn’t take it any longer. I turned and headed upstairs, ignoring Michael’s angry shouts and desperate calls.

Once I was in my room, I locked the door behind me and sank down onto the floor, burying my face in my hands.

Everything felt overwhelming and exhausting. I crawled to my bed, too drained to change out of my dress or wipe off my makeup, and tried to sleep.

The next morning, I came out of my room to find Allison sitting at the dining table. Michael was fussing over her, serving her a plate of what looked like a gourmet breakfast.

He didn’t even seem to notice my tear-streaked, swollen face.

I took a seat across from them, and Allison finally glanced my way with a faux-innocent expression. “Emma, you’re up. I stayed the night because Michael said I needed to rest. But don’t worry, I stayed in the guest room,” she said with a pitiful tone that made my skin crawl. I knew all too well what she was up to.

“No need to explain yourself, Allison,” Michael said abruptly.

Then, turning to me, he added, “You slapped Allison yesterday. Apologize now if you have any decency left.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he was making this the issue first thing in the morning.

“No, really, Michael. I’m sure Emma is sorry for what happened. You don’t need to make her apologize to me,” Allison interjected, her Bambi eyes looking up at Michael with feigned innocence.

“Stop being nice to her. She doesn’t deserve it,” Michael snapped back.

I ignored their petty arguments and focused on serving myself some food. It had been a rough day yesterday, and I hadn’t even managed to have dinner.

Seeing my indifference, Michael’s frustration boiled over. He stormed over to me, yanked my arm, and dragged me roughly to stand beside Allison. My spoon clattered to the floor, and I felt a surge of annoyance.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shot him a furious glare.

“I said apologize to her!” Michael snapped, his voice cold and commanding. The room fell silent, the tension palpable.

I clenched my teeth, my voice trembling with anger, “And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll make you,” he said, pushing me roughly so that I fell to my knees on the floor.

He pinned my shoulder down, and I struggled to get up, but his strength was too much for me, especially now when I was physically and emotionally drained. Some maids approached, clearly concerned, but Michael’s roar sent them fleeing.

“I told you to apologize three times, and you’ve acted like a spoiled brat, ignoring me,” he growled. “Now, Allison, give her a taste of her own medicine. Slap her, just like she did to you!”

I was stunned. Michael’s demand was a punch to the gut. As I looked at his harsh, unfeeling face, the image I had of him for so many years shattered.