CHAPTER 29: CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

"CARLOS!!!"

The name was a raw scream, torn from the depths of Ashlyn’s soul. It shattered the illicit, heated silence of the garden alcove, a sound of agony and betrayal.

Hearing his name, shouted with such raw violence, was like a bucket of ice water thrown over Carlos and Lina. They sprang apart as if electrocuted, their lust-fueled haze evaporating in an instant. Lina, her face a mask of terror, fumbled with the skirt of her maid’s uniform, pulling it down with trembling hands. Carlos, his face pale with shock, hastily pulled up his trousers, his movements clumsy and panicked.

Ashlyn stood at the entrance to the alcove, her body trembling, her eyes wide with a pain so profound it seemed to have stolen her breath. She stared at them, at the rumpled clothes, the flushed skin, the undeniable evidence of their sordid encounter. "How could this be?" she whispered, the question a fragile, broken thing.

Lina whimpered and immediately hid behind Carlos, using his larger frame as a shield against the fury of the wronged wife. Ashlyn’s gaze, filled with a murderous fire, fixed on the man she had, just an hour before, believed was her devoted, loving husband.

"Adulterers," she hissed, the word like venom on her tongue.

"Ashlyn, wait," Carlos began, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "Let me explain..."

But Ashlyn was far beyond explanations. Her entire world, the happy, secure reality she had been so smugly celebrating, had been a lie. The carefully constructed image of her perfect marriage had been shattered, and the pain had instantly curdled into a white-hot, uncontrollable rage. She wasn’t angry at the man who had betrayed her; her fury was aimed at the woman who had indulged herself with him.

Ignoring Carlos completely, she lunged at Lina. "Adulterers!" she shrieked again, her hands reaching out like claws.

"Ashlyn, stop!" Carlos shouted, trying to step between them, to separate the two fighting women.

But Ashlyn was beyond reasoning. She grabbed a handful of Lina’s dark hair, yanking her out from behind Carlos. "I will tear you apart!" she screamed, her other hand swinging through the air, delivering a stinging slap across Lina’s face.

Lina cried out, stumbling backward.

Ashlyn raised her hand to strike again. But this time, Lina, desperate and terrified, dodged to the side. Ashlyn’s hand, meant for the maid, swung through empty air and connected with a solid, jarring impact.

It landed squarely on Carlos’s face.

The fight stopped. The sound of the slap, sharp and shocking, hung in the suddenly silent air. For a long, heart-stopping second, no one moved. Carlos stood perfectly still, his head turned to the side from the force of the blow. The red mark of his wife’s handprint began to bloom on his cheek. He slowly, very slowly, turned his head back to look at her. The initial shock in his eyes was replaced by something cold, hard, and utterly unrecognizable.

The kind, gentle façade he had so carefully maintained had cracked, and the man underneath was a stranger.

With a speed that was terrifying, he slapped Ashlyn back.

It was not a warning tap. It was a brutal, full-force blow that sent her stumbling backward, her feet tangling beneath her. She fell to the ground in a heap of daffodil-yellow silk, the gravel of the path digging into her palms. She looked up at him, her hand flying to her own burning cheek, her mind a complete blank of shock and disbelief. He had hit her. Carlos, her gentle, loving Carlos, had hit her.

"A mere maid," he said, his voice a low, contemptuous snarl as he gestured towards the cowering Lina. "What are you arguing with her about? Have you no dignity?" He looked down at his wife, the woman he had praised and cherished just an hour before, as if she were something disgusting he had found on the bottom of his shoe. "How do you deserve to be the primary wife with such common jealousy?"

The cruelty of his words was worse than the slap. Ashlyn struggled to her feet, her body shaking, her pride in tatters. "You... you treated me like this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Over a maid?" She took a shaky step closer. Lina, seeing the look on her face, shrank further behind Carlos, her hands clutching the back of his shirt. "You treated me like this over a worthless, common maid?" Ashlyn’s voice rose to a hysterical shout. "How could you do this to me?"

It was into this raw, ugly scene that the rest of the family arrived. Drawn by Ashlyn’s final, agonized shriek, Lord Malone, Lady Anita, and Marissa appeared at the entrance to the garden path. They took in the scene at a glance: Ashlyn, her face red and tear-streaked; Carlos, his expression cold and furious; and the terrified maid hiding behind him.

Marissa was the first to speak, her voice a calm, cutting blade of feigned concern. "My lord," she said, addressing Carlos directly, "at today’s joyous homecoming, you actually chose to commit this shameful act here, at the Austen residence? If word of this gets out, how will my sister ever save face?"

Lord Malone stared at Carlos, his face turning a deep, apoplectic purple. "How dare you?" he roared. "You bring this filth to my home?"

"You are simply despicable," Anita spat, her eyes fixed on Carlos with utter disgust.

Ashlyn, seeing her parents, ran to her mother, her composure completely shattering. "Mother," she sobbed, burying her face in Anita’s shoulder.

Anita held her daughter, her own expression hardening as she looked past Carlos and Lina, her gaze landing with sudden, sharp suspicion on Marissa. "Wait a moment," she said slowly. "If I am not mistaken, this woman," she pointed a trembling finger at Lina, "was brought to this house by Marissa, was she not?"

The accusation hung in the air. Marissa looked at them, her eyes wide, a perfect picture of hurt and confusion. "I..." she began, as if too shocked to defend herself.

That was all the confirmation Ashlyn needed. She pulled away from her mother, her grief instantly replaced by a new, more convenient target for her rage. She turned on her sister. "You!" she shrieked, pointing a shaking finger. "You are behind this entire mess! You just couldn’t stand to see me happy! You couldn’t bear our marital bliss, so you used these despicable, underhanded means to drive us apart, didn’t you?"

"So what you are trying to say," Marissa replied, her voice dangerously calm, "is that I somehow made your husband lose control of himself in broad daylight and indulge so shamelessly in the gardens of your own home?"

"Shut up!" Ashlyn screamed, the logic of Marissa’s words only fueling her irrational fury.

"That is enough!" Lord Malone bellowed, his voice silencing everyone. He looked at Carlos, his eyes cold with a patriarch’s insulted authority. "Lord Carlos, today’s incident demands an explanation. You owe that to us, and to our daughter."

Carlos, who had remained silent throughout the family’s arrival, finally spoke. His tone was not apologetic; it was rude and dismissive. "Father-in-law," he said, his voice clipped and arrogant, "this is a private matter between Ashlyn and I. Please, do not intervene."

Lord Malone stared at him, utterly speechless. This was a direct, unforgivable insult. He turned his disgusted gaze upon his weeping daughter. "Look at him," he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. "Look at the great, thoughtful husband you chose. I am deeply, deeply disappointed in you, Ashlyn."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away. Anita, after giving Carlos one last withering glare, followed her husband. Lina, seeing her chance, scurried off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the maze of hedges. And Marissa, her work now complete, simply turned and walked calmly back towards the manor.

They were all gone. Ashlyn and Carlos were left standing alone in the beautiful, sunlit garden, surrounded by the ugly, irreparable wreckage of their supposedly perfect marriage.