Chapter 50
Maeve had no idea what kind of psychotic break Frederick was having, but his grip was painfully crushing her shoulder blades. The color drained from her face as she tried to push him away.
Frederick’s fingers dug in even harder.
“Maeve, answer my question p>
“I moved my things out.” Tears of pain welled up in her eyes.
“I already told you I was going to last time p>
Hearing her words, Frederick acted like an enraged beast. He forcefully dragged Maeve straight into the guest room.
“Move it all back right now p>
Maeve wrenched her arm out of his grip, retreating until her back hit the wall.
“I’m not moving back! Frederick, you treat this house like a hotel, coming and going whenever you please. I have the right to choose where I sleep too p>
Frederick looked at Maeve’s tear-filled eyes and the harsh red finger marks blossoming on her pale wrists. A sharp, needle-like pain pierced his heart.
He silently swallowed his rage, reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and stared at her with deep exasperation.
“What exactly do you want p>
“I want a divorce,” Maeve said without hesitation.
It was the only thing she had been asking for, yet Frederick always acted as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, completely ignoring her.
And just like before, Frederick completely bypassed the word ‘divorce’. His gaze slowly swept over the layout of the guest room.
He saw her personal belongings scattered around, filling the space with her comforting presence. Unconsciously, his heart softened.
They had been fighting far too much lately, and he didn’t want to start another war over something this trivial.
Fine.
If she wanted to sleep here, she could sleep here.
From now on, whenever he came home, he would just sleep in the guest room with her.
No matter how angry she was, she had only moved from the master bedroom down the hall.
As long as she was still living in their home, nothing had truly changed.
Frederick was about to look away when his eyes landed on the neat row of essential oil bottles sitting on her vanity.
The image of the cedarwood perfume instantly flashed in his mind.
The anger Frederick had just managed to suppress flared back to life.
He took a slow, menacing step toward her.
Maeve pressed herself flush against the wall, her voice trembling.
“What are you doing p>
Frederick stepped closer until the tips of his shoes bumped against hers.
“Where is my perfume p>
Maeve’s skyrocketing panic instantly dissolved into sheer confusion.
“What perfume p>
A dark flush of fury crept over Frederick’s face.
“You made custom perfumes for both Jonathan and Yvette! Where is mine p>
Maeve was speechless.
“You never said you wanted one p>
Frederick ground his teeth together. “You explicitly told me before that the very first bottle of any scent you made would always be for me p>
“And you just said it yourself. That was before.” Maeve lowered her eyelashes, masking the deep, hollow sorrow flooding her eyes.
“The man you are now doesn’t deserve the privileges you had before p>
Frederick’s jaw clenched so hard he nearly cracked his own teeth, the muscles ticking violently along his jawline.
“What did you just say p>
Maeve glared right back at him. “I said, you don’t deserve it p>
“But Jonathan does?” Frederick’s chest heaved with heavy, ragged breaths.
“What does this have to do with Jonathan?” Maeve thought Frederick was just being an unreasonable lunatic.
“You just don’t deserve it! You don’t deserve my devotion, and you don’t deserve anything I make. I could give those things to literally anyone else in the world, but! will never give them to you again p>
Frederick’s breathing grew incredibly harsh.
Maeve tilted her chin up, refusing to back down.
They stared each other down, neither willing to yield an inch.
The air in the room slowly froze over, turning completely stagnant.
The tension was suffocatingly intense.