CHAPTER 3: A Transaction in Marble
After rushing out of the hospital, Diana head outside to the car outside already waiting for him.
Diana didn’t bother with the passenger door. She wrenched open the driver’s side of the sleek black sedan and slid into the leather seat, her movements sharp with a trapped energy. The driver, a man in a dark suit, merely glanced at her before starting the engine. She didn’t have to speak; her rushed, brittle presence was command enough.
“Drive me to the mansion,” she said, the words clipped. She stared straight ahead, not seeing the city streets blur past her window.
Her mind was a split screen: Ashley’s pale, confused face in the sterile hospital room, and the roaring, contemptuous voice still echoing in her ear from the phone. Cole.
The driver navigated the roads with silent efficiency, moving from the urban grit surrounding the hospital towards the city’s outskirts. The buildings grew farther apart, the trees thicker. A familiar, oppressive weight settled over Diana’s shoulders as the tall, wrought-iron gates of Cole’s estate came into view, flanked by imposing stone pillars. The gates slid open automatically, a silent, obedient mouth swallowing the car whole.
The driveway was a long, winding ribbon of crushed gravel cutting through meticulously landscaped grounds. It was a display of wealth meant to intimidate, and after five months, it still worked. The mansion itself loomed ahead—a modern monolith of glass and steel that reflected the overcast Vancouver sky like a cold, unblinking eye.
The car rolled to a smooth stop before the grand entrance. Diana was out before the driver could come around, her heels clicking a rapid rhythm on the stone steps. She pushed through the heavy front door, the vast, echoing foyer swallowing the sound.
She saw him immediately. Cole ,furiosly storming around the space, his hands behind his back. Even from across the room, she could feel the heat of his anger radiating towards her.
He stopped pacing the moment she entered. He turned, his gaze pinning her to the marble floor from twenty feet away.
“Where the hell have you been?” The question wasn’t a question; it was a thunderclap in the silent space. His voice, usually a controlled, deep baritone, was raw with unchecked fury.
Diana forced herself to walk forward, each step a conscious effort. She held her chin level, her shoulders back, the picture of the elegant billionaire’s wife he demanded in public. Inside, her heart hammered against her ribs like a caged bird. She stopped a few feet from him, close enough to smell his expensive cologne, far enough to avoid his reach. For now.
“I went to see Ashley,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “It was urgent. His injuries… they’re severe.”
Cole’s lips thinned. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, his polished shoes silent on the marble. “Without telling me?” The fury had banked, replaced by a colder, more dangerous calm.
“It was an emergency. He could have died.” She held his gaze, a flicker of maternal defiance cutting through her fear.
He was silent for a long moment, his dark, piercing eyes scanning her face, looking for cracks. He saw them—the redness around her eyes, the tight set of her jaw. He smiled, a thin, humorless stretch of his lips. “Well, that’s in the past now.” He dismissed her son’s near-death with a wave of his hand. “So, go get dressed. We have that meeting with the Singapore investors in forty minutes.”
The casual cruelty of it stole her breath. The careful mask she wore slipped. “No, Cole. I’m not doing that.” Her voice rose, trembling at the edges. “I told you, Ashley is in the hospital. He’s hurt. And you want me to put on a dress and smile for strangers?”
He looked at her, his head tilting slightly as if she were a puzzling insect. Then he took two slow strides forward, closing the distance. He raised a hand, and she flinched, a tiny, involuntary jerk she hated herself for. But his hand didn’t strike. It came up to stroke a strand of her hair, his touch deceptively gentle. She stood frozen, repulsion warring with a deep, conditioned need to placate him.
“You know how much I care about you,” he said, his voice a low, intimate murmur that felt like a lie coating her skin. “And your son. But this meeting is important. It’s going to fetch us very, very good money.”
The word ‘us’ was a joke. The money was his. She was just another asset. The anger, hot and sharp, finally broke through her fear. “There’s no such thing as ‘good money’ if you’re not willing to spend any of it on my son’s life!”
Cole sighed deeply, a theatrical sound of long-suffering. He dropped his hand from her hair. “Diana, he’s an adult. He should be able to fend for himself. The boy is just… lazy. He lacks ambition. He needs to learn discipline.”
The familiar script. She’d heard it a hundred times. It was the justification for every cut-off allowance, every denied opportunity, every cruel remark. It was the story Cole told himself to sleep at night. “I know Ashley is an adult,” she said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. “I know he’s supposed to be independent. But he can’t be right now. He’s broken. You’re my husband. You’re supposed to help me. Help us. Get him back on his feet!”
Her eyes filled, the tears a hot, shameful betrayal. She blinked them back furiously.
Cole watched her, his expression unreadable. He heaved another sigh, this one softer, conciliatory. “Okay, honey. We can talk about this later. When we’re back from the meeting.”
The trap snapped shut. The promise of ‘later’ was a black hole where her concerns would disappear. She shook her head, a sudden, fierce determination taking hold. “No. Unfortunately, no. I’m not going anywhere with you unless you agree, right now, to stop treating my son like a stranger. Like a burden.” She turned on her heel, intending to walk away, to retreat to her bedroom.
His hand shot out, not to grab her, but to press firmly against the doorframe, blocking her path. He moved with a predator’s speed. “I know,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that there’s no way for you to pay his hospital bill. Not with your accounts locked.”
Diana froze, a cold dread seeping into her bones.
“So,” Cole continued, leaning in so close she could see the faint scar bisecting his eyebrow. “Come with me. Be the perfect wife. And I will personally pay for all his bills. Every last bandage and pill. I’ll even get him the best specialist in the city.”
The offer hung in the air, slick and poisonous. It wasn’t help; it was a transaction. Just like always.
Her compliance for Ashley’s survival. She felt the fight drain out of her, leaving a hollow, weary ache. She had already sold so much of herself to this man. What was one more afternoon?
She turned slowly to face him, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Alright,” she whispered, the word tasting of ashes. “I’ll do it. I’ll do what you want.”
A victor’s smile touched Cole’s lips. He stepped closer again, his shoes clicking decisively on the marble. “I don’t hate Ashley,” he said, his tone almost reasonable. “I’m just trying to make him a man. He’s soft. He needs to be taught the right way.” He reached out and cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You understand, don’t you?”
She could only nod, a numb, mechanical movement.
“Thank you for your… observation,” she managed, her voice flat. “I’ll get changed.” She pulled away from his touch and walked towards the sweeping staircase, her vision blurred by unshed tears.
Cole watched her ascend, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. He didn’t move until the sound of her bedroom door closing softly echoed down into the vast silence of the foyer.
Only then did he turn. His assistant, a lean man with a tablet, materialized from a shadowed corner of the room as if summoned.
“The boy,” Cole said, his voice now devoid of any pretense of concern. “What actually happened?”
The assistant consulted his tablet. “His boss at the pizza shop, a Mr. Briggs, assaulted him. The report says Ashley was ‘lacking behind.’ It led to a physical altercation.”
Cole chuckled, a dry, mirthless sound. He walked to the window, gazing out at the manicured greensward that rolled towards the dark pine forests. “You see? He was too lazy to even fight back properly.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I can’t be expected to keep someone that useless as a stepson. A waste of space.”
He paused, his reflection ghostly in the glass. “Then again,” he mused, a slow smile spreading across his face, “he still serves a purpose. He’s a good investment. A lever.” He glanced back at his assistant, his eyes sharp. “Keep a very good watch on him at that hospital. I want to know the moment he tries to stand on his own two feet.”