Chapter 8: Thirty Pieces of Silver
“Ivy!” Zane strode to her, fingertips grazing the red mark on her cheek. His expression was raw, pained as if he’d been struck. “She hit you? What happened?”
Tearfully, Ivy recounted the story. Zane’s face darkened with every word.
“It was a shawl,” he turned on Nova, voice arctic. “Worth assault?”
“Just a shawl?” Nova’s voice shook. “Zane, it was the only thing my grandmother left me!”
Zane paused.
In three years of marriage, Nova had always been gentle grace personified. Never raised her voice.
Her red–rimmed eyes and trembling shoulders now were… unfamiliar.
“Ivy didn’t mean harm,” he said, tone softening fractionally. “She offered compensation. What more do you want? If the amount was insufficient-” He pulled a checkbook from his inner pocket, scrawled a figure, and thrust it at Nova. “Will this suffice?”
Nova stared at the check. An invisible fist crushed her heart. Breathing became agony.
When she didn’t take it, Zane frowned. He tore off another check. Wrote a larger sum.
“Not enough?” His tone was detached, transactional. “How about this?”
Check after check landed before her. Figures ballooned. Her heart froze solid.
Finally, she took the last one. Her fingers trembled.
“Enough.” The word was whisper–soft, yet cost her everything.
Zane.
This check is enough…
And this marriage is enough.
She turned to leave.
“Stop.”
Her steps froze. She didn’t look back.
“You took the money. Now address the assault.” His voice brooked no argument. “Apologize to
Ivy.”
Chapter 8: Thirty Pieces of Silver
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Nova stiffened. Slowly, she turned. Her eyes were bloodshot. “What did you say?”
Zane’s gaze was merciless. “Apologize.”
“And if I refuse?” Her voice trembled.
“The Sterlings‘ fortunes still hang by Blackthorn threads. “His words were casual daggers.
Nova’s breath hitched. The blade twisted deep.
He was threatening her parents‘ legacy.
Silence thickened, suffocating.
Then–Nova bowed her head. “…I’m sorry.” The words scraped her throat raw.
Ivy touched her cheek, feigning fragility. “Ms. Sterling… is that sincere? Or is this how your elite
circle pretends to apologize?”
Nova’s fists clenched. Nails drew blood from her palms.
A beat. Then-
She bent at the waist–a deep, ninety–degree bow of utter submission.
“I apologize!” Her voice broke, yet every syllable rang clear. “Ms. Callahan. I was wrong to strike you. Please forgive me!”
Straightening, she met Zane’s eyes. “Is this acceptable?”
Zane stared at her tear–reddened eyes. An unfamiliar pang pierced his chest.
He remembered. Three years ago, burning with fever, she’d looked at him with eyes just as red-
but filled with trust, with love.
Now? Only dead calm.
His throat tightened. He opened his mouth–closed it. “It’ll do.”
Nova turned. Her spine was steel, She didn’t hesitate.
Behind her, Zane’s voice softened, gentled: “Still hurting? Let me apply the ointment.”
Ivy’s reply was honeyed: “It stings… be gentle, Zane…”
Nova kept walking. Tears féll–silent, scalding. She wiped them away. Left no trace.
Chapter 8: Thirty Pieces of Silver
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