Chapter 13 Edge Of Resolve

Liam drove in silence for a while, his eyes flickering between the road and Suzanne. The tension in the car was thick, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He needed to know. "How long, Suzanne?" Liam finally asked, his voice low, but there was an undeniable edge of frustration to it. "How long has he been hitting you?" Suzanne stiffened, her heart skipping a beat. She didn’t want to answer. Didn’t want to relive it. But Liam’s gaze was unwavering, his anger barely contained, and it made her uncomfortable in a way she couldn’t explain. She shifted in her seat, looking out the window, pretending the passing scenery could distract her from his question. "I—I don’t want to talk about it," she mumbled, trying to avoid his eyes. Liam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. Then, his voice came out harder. "You don’t want to talk about it? You’ve been living in hell, Suzanne, and you don’t want to talk about it? God, this isn’t the life you deserve." Her chest tightened. "I know that. But it’s not your business anymore, Liam." The words hit him like a slap. He glanced at her quickly, trying to understand. He had always known Suzanne to be strong, to be the woman with a fire in her, but now... she seemed to be wilting right before his eyes. And it pissed him off. Big time. He took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "You're an heiress to one of the most powerful companies in Canada," he said, his tone shaking with frustration. "Do you even realize who you are? This life you’re living, it isn’t worth it. You don’t have to put up with him. You don’t owe him anything." Suzanne felt a cold wave of resentment rush through her. She turned her head sharply, her gaze fierce. "Why didn’t you come back then, huh?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why didn’t you come back when I needed you the most? When everything fell apart?" Her words were sharp, cutting, laced with years of hurt and confusion. "You don’t get to tell me how to live my life now that you’ve decided to come back." Liam’s jaw clenched, and he felt the heat rise in his chest. He’d always known how hard it was for her, but hearing her say it like that hit him harder than he expected. "Suzanne..." he started, his voice softer, almost pleading. "You think I don’t regret not being there? You think I don’t know how I fucked up? But you have to see—" She cut him off, shaking her head. "No. I don’t need to hear it. I don’t need you here, telling me how to live. Just—just leave me alone, Liam." They arrived at the Langford mansion, the place Suzanne had called home. As the car came to a stop, she turned to him one last time. Her expression was firm, and she meant every word that came next. "I want nothing to do with you. I’d rather you not be here at all." Her voice broke just a little as she spoke, but her resolve was unwavering. Liam sat there, staring at her, his heart pounding in his chest. "I’m not going anywhere," he said quietly, but with a firmness that surprised both of them. "You can push me away all you want, but I’m not giving up on you. Not now, not ever." Suzanne’s eyes welled up, and she couldn’t say anything more. She just opened the car door and left him there, standing at the gates of her life once again. Inside the house, the moment Suzanne stepped through the door, the atmosphere felt colder. She hadn’t expected Beatrice to be there, but there she was, sitting in the living room like a hawk ready to pounce. Suzanne's heart sank as soon as she saw her mother-in-law’s cold gaze. Beatrice didn’t waste any time. The second Suzanne entered the room, she sneered, her voice laced with disgust. "Oh, look who finally decided to show up. The great Suzanne Langford, the so-called 'perfect' wife." She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "You think you can just waltz in here after everything you’ve done? After the scandal you’ve brought upon this family?" Suzanne stood frozen at the threshold, her pulse quickening. "What are you talking about?" she muttered, though she knew exactly where this was going. Beatrice’s lips twisted into a sneer as she stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward Suzanne. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, dear. You’ve paraded yourself around, acting like the innocent, mistreated wife, when we both know you’ve been nothing but a disgrace. A slut, that’s what you are. You’re a fucking embarrassment." Suzanne’s face burned with humiliation and fury. She wanted to snap back, to tell Beatrice where she could shove her insults, but something about the way her mother-in-law stood there, looking down on her, made it feel like the weight of everything was crushing her all over again. Beatrice wasn’t finished. "And to top it all off, you’ve gone and gotten yourself pregnant. God knows who the father is. I wouldn’t be surprised if this baby isn't even my son's." Her eyes glinted with malice, her voice dripping with venom. "How are we supposed to know it’s his? Maybe you're just trying to trap him, trying to keep him bound to you with that child. You’ll do anything to keep him, won’t you?" The words stung like a thousand needles. Suzanne’s chest tightened, her eyes stinging with the hot press of unshed tears. She hadn’t expected this, hadn’t expected to be cornered like this, and the insult cut deep—so deep that it was all she could do to keep her voice steady. "How dare you!" Suzanne snapped, her anger igniting. She was done being quiet, done letting Beatrice run her down. "You have no idea what you’re talking about. This baby—this child—is Charles’s. And I don’t owe you an explanation about my life, not anymore. You can keep your opinions to yourself." Beatrice’s eyes flared with rage. "Oh, I’m sure you’ll say anything to defend yourself," she hissed, her hands trembling with fury. "But deep down, you know exactly what you are, and so do I. A cheap little tramp, who’ll do whatever it takes to secure her place in this family. Even if it means ruining my son’s life." Suzanne’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her body trembling with the force of her emotions. "You’re disgusting," she whispered through clenched teeth, the words escaping before she could stop them. Beatrice leaned in closer, her voice growing colder, more biting. "You should be ashamed of yourself. You’ve turned my son into a fool. You’ve fooled him into thinking you’re some sort of angel, but we both know better. You’re nothing more than a manipulator." Suzanne’s eyes flashed with fury, but Beatrice wasn’t done. "And now you’re here, pretending like this child you’re carrying is my son’s. But how can we be sure?" Beatrice sneered. "You’ve been with other men, haven’t you? You’re nothing but a whore. A sad, pathetic whore who thinks she can use a child to get what she wants." The words felt like a punch to the gut. Suzanne stood there, her entire body shaking, the weight of Beatrice’s words threatening to crush her. She wanted to scream, to tear this woman down, but all she could do was stand there, numb. "Get out," Suzanne finally said, her voice hoarse, raw from the emotions surging through her. "Just... get out of my house. I’m done with you and your insults."