The Butcher (Fifth Republic Series Book 1)
The Butcher: Chapter 8

I sat in the armchair in the office, the blinds behind the desk closed. A clock sat on one of the dressers, the ticking of it loud in the quiet space. The marriage counselor was already there, a woman in her sixties, someone who had enough life experience to handle a delicate situation like this. We talked about the weather for a while, and I looked at the small vase in the corner of her desk, fresh roses there like she’d picked them from her own garden.

Adrien was late, which was ironic, considering he was punctual for every appointment. He actually got me here, and he hadn’t even shown up.

A minute later, he walked inside and hurried to his seat. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” He turned to me, apologizing to me more than the therapist. His hand reached for mine on my lap. “I’m so glad you’re here⁠—”

My hand immediately withdrew, like his touch was the plague.

He stilled at my actions then retracted his hand.

A pair of blue eyes flashed across my mind, eyes that were so pretty but so hard at the same time, that could drill past my vacant stare and see the depth of who I was below. His hand had gripped my throat, had marked my ass where he’d struck me, had cupped my face in the gentlest way.

I looked away from Adrien and swallowed.

Linda was the name of our marriage counselor, and she had just witnessed our first interaction. “Trust has been broken. There is also deep-seated resentment. A lot for us to work through.” She looked at us with a nonjudgmental gaze, like she saw this sort of thing all the time, a woman working past her husband’s infidelity.

“I never thought I’d be sitting here.” I stared at the roses, pink with dark shading along the edges, like they were wild rather than the curated ones from the professional gardens outside of Paris. They looked like they grew in a pot on someone’s terrace, surviving the rain and living for the spots of sunshine between the clouds.

Linda looked at me. “Would you care to share more, Fleur?”

I shook my head. “We were happy. At least, I thought we were.”

Adrien cut in. “We were happy⁠—”

“Let her speak,” Linda said. “It’s clear how difficult this is for her.”

I swallowed before I continued. “I thought I had a husband who loved me, truly loved me, and I know all women think their men will never cheat, but I actually believed it. I’ve done everything I can to be a good wife. I’m the same size as the day he married me, I cook his favorite things, give him love and affection and make him feel worthy of my heart… But it didn’t matter.” I focused on those roses because they were the only things I could grab on to, but what I really wanted was a pair of blue eyes that burned with strength.

The images came to me again, the shadows in the corners of his bedroom, the lights from the Eiffel Tower as they shimmered and danced, the way he kissed me like he loved me one moment and threw me on the bed the next. I didn’t know who I was when I was with him—but I liked her.

When it was clear I had nothing more to say, Linda turned to Adrien. “How does that make you feel, Adrien?”

He was quiet for a while, trying to replace the right words. “It hurts me to know that Fleur is searching for the blame…when I’m the one who fucked up. She did nothing wrong. I was just a fucking idiot. There’s no better explanation than that. The experience has shown me how much I love my wife, because I would do anything to take it back.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the roses.

You’re too beautiful for this bullshit.

I felt his thumb in the corner of my mouth, felt his fingers tangle my hair with their grip, smelled him even when he wasn’t in the room, felt the comfort of his protection like he was there that moment.

“How does that make you feel, Fleur?”

I didn’t even know him.

Didn’t know his last name.

I’d fucked him bareback, begged him to come inside me, dug my hands into his hair so he couldn’t leave. From the first moment I saw him and dragons breathed fire in my belly, I’d known he’d leave a mark on me that was as permanent as a tattoo.

I didn’t know him.

And I didn’t know me when I was with him.

“Fleur?”

My eyes lifted because they’d sunk to the floor. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Linda said. “This is difficult.”

“How did you fuck her?” I lifted my chin and looked at him.

He stilled at the question, like he couldn’t believe I asked that. “Fleur…”

“Did you throw her on the bed? Did you grab her by the hair? Did you come inside her?”

Adrien looked shocked by the questions. “I—I don’t think the details matter.”

“I’m just trying to understand,” I said. “Because if it was the best sex of your life, then it would make sense.”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, Fleur.”

“Really?” I asked. “Because you aren’t mine.”

Even Linda’s eyebrows lifted at that statement.

Because we had an audience, Adrien hid the anger he would normally show. He had to bottle it and swallow whatever he would have said.

I turned to Linda. “Did you pick those yourself?”

It took her a moment to understand that I referred to the roses on the corner of her desk. “I saw you admire those. Yes, I have a small garden on my terrace. Do you like to garden, Fleur?”

“No.”

Linda grabbed the small vase in her hands and rose to her feet to bring it to me. “How about you keep this—” A bit of water swished over the top and streaked down the side of the vase and over her hand. It made the surface slippery, and the vase fumbled out of her hands and smashed to the floor, pieces of glass flying everywhere, mixed in the pool of water and rose petals. “Oh dear, I’m so clumsy.”

Adrien immediately went to her aid. “Let me help you. Do you have a broom?”

“Yes, in the closet,” Linda said.

I just sat there and stared at the broken glass. A piece had landed next to my shoe—and another clear across the room in the opposite corner.

Linda picked up the large pieces and set them on her desk while Adrien swept with the broom, getting most of the shards into the pan. They worked together, neither seeming to care that I didn’t bother to get up and help.

When Adrien was finished, he dumped the glass into the garbage can. “I think I got it all.”

My eyes went to the piece in the corner and then the one right by my shoe.

“I’m sorry about all of that,” Linda said. “Sometimes I forget I’m not as quick as I used to be.” She returned to her seat behind the desk.

Adrien smoothed out the front of his shirt and retook his seat.

The commotion died down, and it turned quiet once more.

My eyes remained on the glass in the corner, the piece that wouldn’t be noticed for a while—until Linda stepped on it and heard it crunch under her shoe.

“Now, where were we?” Linda said.

My eyes finally left the glass, and I looked at the woman who’d barely gotten a chance to know us, whose work was done before I even walked in the door. “I want a divorce.”

Linda stilled at my statement, and then her eyes flicked to Adrien.

He cleared his throat. “Fleur⁠—”

“I want a divorce,” I repeated.

“We’re here,” Adrien said. “Can we at least finish the session?”

“No.”

He released a sigh. “Please. You said you would try.”

“And I tried,” I said calmly, knowing my heart was dead and no amount of drugs or paddles were going to restart it.

Linda looked at me. “May I ask what prompted such an abrupt change? Because you seemed receptive when you walked in the door.”

I glanced at the glass in the corner again. “Because my trust is shattered, and there are too many pieces to put back together.”

“We were there for less than ten minutes⁠—”

“It’s over.”

He followed me into the apartment. “You said you would try.”

“And I did try.” I turned back around. “You know how hard it was for me to go down there? No one gets married expecting to get divorced, but I really thought we would last. I really thought we were different—like a freakin’ idiot.”

“We are different.”

“No, we aren’t. We’re just another couple where the husband fucks around because he’s rich and thinks his wife will just put up with it.”

“It was one time.”

“That’s what you say…”

“Fleur—”

“I’m so fucking done with this.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “I don’t want to be married to you anymore, Adrien. I don’t want to try. I just want to move on. Stop forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. If you love me, you’ll let me go. If you’re the man you say you are, you won’t use your resources to block my attempts to be free of you.”

Adrien was rooted to the spot, looking cornered like I was the one who came at him. For the first time, he was speechless, out of ammo. “Why do I feel like he has something to do with this?”

I felt myself stiffen even when I didn’t hear his name. He still had his grip on my throat, still had his thumb in the corner of my mouth. Our time together had been brief, but it left a lasting impression. “I haven’t spoken to him in a week.” He hadn’t contacted me. That could mean he moved on with someone else or lost interest. Or he wanted to give me the space to figure this out—unlike Adrien, who was down my throat every other day.

“That didn’t answer the question.”

I held his stare and my silence, unsure what I would say even if I could speak freely.

“He’s dangerous, Fleur. Trust me on that.”

“You’ve hurt me far more than he ever could.”

He stepped forward. “You don’t understand.” His eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “He is death.”

I didn’t know what that meant, but bumps formed on my arms anyway.

“If you’re looking for marriage and kids and security, he is not the answer.”

“I’m not looking for anything right now, Adrien. I’m just trying to put myself back together. I’m just trying to get through tomorrow and the next day.” I stepped away from him, feeling no connection to him whatsoever. “I’ve lost my friends, the family I thought I would have forever, I lost you…”

“You didn’t lose me.” His hand moved over his chest. “I’m still here.”

“I lost you the moment you stuck your dick in someone else.” I turned my back on him and faced the window, feeling the crackle in my chest and the ache in the back of my throat, the warning of impending tears. I hadn’t cried in front of him because I was too proud to let someone know they hurt me, but now, I struggled to keep my emotions in check, struggled to keep it together even with my back turned. “Please just go…and don’t come back.”