Chapter 199: Locked Door

Richard smiled. "We’re home free."

The words had barely left his mouth when something moved outside the bedroom door.

Richard lifted one finger to his lips.

Then he turned toward the door.

He walked across the room carefully, reached the door and yanked it open.

Ethan stood on the other side. The boy’s face said everything. He had heard.

"Son of a bitch!"

Ethan stepped backward.

Richard reached for him, grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him violently into the room.

"Richard! Let go of him!" Diana yelled.

Ethan hated being touched. He especially hated being touched by his father.

The second Richard’s hands closed around him, Ethan’s breathing changed. It became shallow and fast, his chest tightening so quickly that he could barely pull in enough air.

Diana saw it immediately. "Richard, please, let him go!"

Richard ignored her. His grip tightened around the front of Ethan’s shirt. "This is what you teach him now?" he snapped at Diana. "Eavesdropping on our conversations?"

"Richard, look at him!"

Ethan’s breathing became worse. He tried to pull away, but Richard held him tighter.

"Please," Diana said again, panic creeping into her voice. "Let him go. He is not looking too good!"

Richard turned Ethan sharply and forced the boy to look at him. "Has he ever?"

"Richard!"

He was already dragging Ethan toward the door.

Ethan stumbled, trying to keep his feet beneath him while his father yanked him down the hallway.

Diana followed, shouting at Richard to stop.

The noise travelled through the house.

Millie appeared, confused at first.

Then she saw Ethan being dragged along by his shirt.

Her face crumpled immediately. She started crying. "Ethan!"

"Richard!" Diana screamed.

He was in a blind rage now, it seemed to erase everything around him. He didn’t see Ethan struggling to breathe. He didn’t seem to care that Millie was crying. He didn’t care that Diana was pleading with him.

All he saw was the threat.

Ethan had heard too much.

That was all Richard could think about.

He dragged the boy toward the storage room and yanked it open.

Diana’s stomach dropped. "No."

Richard shoved Ethan inside.

"Richard, don’t!"

He slammed the door shut and locked it.

Diana lunged toward him. "What are you doing?!"

Richard pulled the key free. "You better call his school and tell them he’s under the weather."

Diana’s face had gone pale. "How long are you going to keep him locked in there?"

Richard slipped the key into his pocket. "I don’t know. How long will it take before he doesn’t go blabbing to his favourite aunt?" He was afraid Ethan would tell Naomi.

Diana tightened her grip on his arm. "Richard, please."

He yanked his arm free.

"Please, I am begging you. He is your son." Diana reached for his arm again.

This time he flung her aside so violently that she lost her balance.

She stumbled backward.

Millie stood directly behind her.

Diana twisted at the last second, barely avoiding colliding into the little girl.

Millie screamed. "Mommy!"

Diana caught herself against the wall. "Richard, please. Please. I am begging you. He is your son!"

"That bastard is no son of mine!" He turned and walked toward the front door.

"Richard! Richard, come back here!"

The front door slammed.

Millie rushed toward the storage room. "Ethan!" She started banging lightly against the door with both hands. "Ethan!"

Diana grabbed the handle and pulled. "Ethan?" she called. "I’m here." She pressed one hand against the door. "I’m here, baby."

Millie kept crying beside her.

"It’s okay." Diana then began scrambling around the house, searching for an extra key as Millie continued to wail, banging lightly on the storage door.

*****

Dorian arrived home that night expecting to beat Naomi there.

Instead, the first thing he noticed when he drove into the garage was her black Range Rover already parked in its usual spot.

He slowed slightly before pulling the Bentley into the space beside it.

The Bentley had become his daily car since his Mercedes had been wrecked.

He stepped out, loosened his tie and headed inside. "Naomi?" He checked the kitchen first because that was the obvious place.

Then went up another floor and glanced into her office.

The bedroom was empty too.

By the time he had checked the places he knew she was most likely to be, Dorian decided his wife was clearly playing some strange version of hide-and-seek.

He pulled out his phone and called her.

She answered.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"On the roof..."

"I’ll be there in a bit." He ended the call.

Ten minutes later, he had changed into shorts and a T-shirt and made his way upstairs.

Naomi was sitting on a large fluffy mat with her legs folded beneath her. A big insulated food container sat nearby with two plates, cutlery and everything else they would need for dinner. Beside it was an ice bucket with a bottle of wine chilling inside.

Dorian looked from the setup to his wife. "Are we celebrating something?"

Naomi looked up and smiled.

But it wasn’t her usual smile.

It was sad.

His entire mood changed. "What’s wrong, babe?" He crossed the space immediately and lowered himself beside her on the mat.

That was when he noticed the file beside Naomi.

For one ugly second, his mind betrayed him.

He thought they were divorce papers.

Perhaps three failed marriages had left scars that didn’t disappear.

Dorian immediately shut the thought down. He refused to let that part of himself take centre stage.

Naomi had looked him in the eyes and told him she loved him.

"Naomi?"

"I’m fine." She sighed. "I’m simply having an internal battle."

"Tell me."

She took a breath. "You’ve done so much for me already, Dorian."

He frowned slightly.

Naomi had an irritating habit of treating everything he did for her like an item on an invisible debt sheet.

He had been trying to teach her that marriage did not work that way.

Lessons were still ongoing.

"And..." She hesitated. "I know I’ve told you before to stay out of my business. Back then, things were different. I was trying to keep this line between us because I thought I needed it."