Chapter 2Her Assistant Can Have Her

Dominic smirked, waiting for me to crumble.

But I just looked at the barrel of the gun and started to laugh. “Go ahead. Pull the trigger. Let the world know you murdered your fiancé at your engagement party over a staff member’s bruised ego.”

Madeline’s hand trembled. Slowly, she lowered the weapon. “You know Dominic only says these things because he cares about my future. But hitting him… you went too far, Harry. Apologize.”

She was issuing orders like a queen, her voice cold and distant. This wasn't the woman I’d fallen in love with. She had lost every ounce of tenderness, replaced by a ruthless, misplaced arrogance.

“Apologize?” I repeated. “Have you forgotten he owes me his life?”

I looked around the room, making sure everyone heard me. “Three years ago, he picked a fight with the wrong people in a club. He got you cornered in a warehouse, Madeline. I was the one who went in. I took eight stab wounds for the both of you.”

I turned back to Dominic. “Or how about the time you ‘accidentally’ mixed mango nectar into my drink when you knew I was deathly allergic? I went into anaphylactic shock. My heart stopped for two minutes.”

The guests began to whisper, their eyes shifting toward Dominic with newfound disgust.

Those were just the big things. The daily life with him was a thousand tiny cuts—my laptop smashed, my research data "lost," my client list leaked after he had "too much to drink."

Seeing the tide turn, Dominic immediately shifted gears. He snatched the gun from Madeline’s hand and pressed it to his own temple.

“Don’t blame Miss Madeline!” he cried, his voice theatrical. “I’ll take responsibility. You want my life? Fine! I’ll give it back to you!”

I saw the flicker of guilt in Madeline’s eyes vanish, replaced by frantic concern. She lunged for his hand, then turned on me, her face contorted with rage.

“Are you happy now? Bringing up ancient history just to drive him to this? Do you want him dead?”

My heart felt like it was turning to stone.

Dominic wasn't finished. He grabbed a steak knife from the table and drove the tip into the palm of his own hand.

“There,” he hissed, blood beginning to pool on the white cloth. “We’re even, Mr. Beaumont. Now sign the paper.”

Madeline let out a choked sob. She tore a strip of fabric from her designer gown and began wrapping his hand, her eyes burning as she looked at me.

“Look at what you’ve become, Harry. You’re so vindictive. So irrational! Why can't you be more like Dominic? Why can't you think about what I need?”

She looked at me like I was a monster.

But I hadn't said a word to provoke him. They were the ones holding the knife and the gun. They were the ones pushing me into a corner.

Had I not given enough?

I had stopped eating my favorite foods because she didn't like the smell. I had spent my weekends cooking her favorite meals, driving through rainstorms to deliver forgotten files to her office, and spending three years in a digital relationship, surviving on five-minute phone calls.

Was that not "sincere" enough?

“Alright, alright, let’s calm down,” a family friend tried to interject. “It’s a celebration, let’s not do this.”

Madeline wouldn't let it go. “No. He’s out of control. Harry, apologize to Dominic right now, or don't even think about marrying into this family. I won’t have you thinking you can overrule me.”

I looked at her, and the absurdity of it all finally hit me. The woman I had worshipped was a stranger.

“Talk to me!” she shouted. “He’s bleeding, Harry! Is a simple apology that hard for you?”