The Unwanted Wife's Return (Ex-Husband Wants Me Back) novel Chapter 369

His Permission 

MARY’S POV: 

He looked different than the last time I had seen him. His clothes were rumpled, his hair disheveled, his eyes shadowed. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. But there was something else in his expression, something hard and determined that I didn’t recognize. 

He saw the suitcase on the bed, and his eyes narrowed. 

“Going somewhere?” he asked. 

I didn’t answer. I just watched him. 

He walked into the room, his steps slow and deliberate. When he was close enough to touch me, he stopped. His eyes searched my face, looking for something I wasn’t willing to give. 

“You were with someone yesterday,” he said. “A man.” 

It wasn’t a question. 

“He was just a friend,” I said. My voice was flat, empty, the voice of someone who had run out of fear. 

Alistair’s jaw tightened. “What friend? I’ve never seen him before.” 

I didn’t answer. 

“Who were you with, Mary?” 

“I have friends,” I said carefully. “People who care about me. Not that it’s any of your business anyway.” 

“My business is anything that involves my wife.” He stepped closer, his eyes boring into mine. “Where did you go today?” 

I kept my voice steady. “I went to Elowen’s school event. The one you were supposed to attend. Remember?” 

He didn’t react. “I was busy.” 

“Busy with Vesper.” 

“I was busy with work.’ 

I laughed, a short, hollow sound that seemed to echo off the walls. “Sure you were.” 

“That money wasn’t yours.” 

“Everything is mine. The house you live in. The clothes you wear. Even your daughter. You only have any of it because of me.” 

I took a step back, my hand gripping the edge of the suitcase. “Elowen isn’t yours to give. She’s a person. She’s my daughter.” 

“She’s both of ours. And she stays because I say she stays. 

“You can’t do this.” 

“I can do anything I want.” His voice was cold, controlled, the voice of someone who had never been told no in his life. “Don’t you understand that by now?” 

I stared at him. The man I had married. The man I had loved. The man who had promised to protect me and our daughter. 

He was a stranger. 

He reached out and gripped my arm. His fingers dug into my skin, not painfully, but hard enough that I couldn’t pull away even if I want to. 

“Only the things I allow you to have belong to you,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “Do you understand?”