A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 12

He finished speaking and immediately leaned in to kiss her.

A wave of revulsion surged through Winona, every nerve in her body recoiling in protest. She fought the urge to slap him and jerked her head away.

But Tyson caught her chin, his grip forceful as he turned her face back toward him.

"Nona, don't make a fuss," he murmured, voice low and heated. "I want you…"

"My leg hurts," Winona snapped, her tone sharp.

She was strikingly beautiful to begin with, but the flush of anger only seemed to make her features more alluring. Fueled by alcohol, Tyson found her impossible to resist.

He let out a short, amused laugh. "Liar. You just took your meds, didn't you? How could you possibly be uncomfortable?"

He held her tight, his face buried in the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent with greedy desperation.

Winona's mind buzzed, her ears filling with the ghostly echoes of Tyson and Celia's illicit whispers.

Disgust twisted in her gut.

She would never let Tyson touch her.

"Tyson!" Winona suddenly cried, her voice sharp as glass. "My leg hurts. Let go of me!"

A deafening crack of thunder split the night outside the window.

Tyson froze, his body going rigid.

A strange tension pulsed in the air between them.

After a moment, Tyson finally let her go.

His expression had settled back to normal, and even the haze of alcohol seemed to have faded.

"Sorry, Nona. I forgot… Whenever it's about to storm, your leg always hurts."

That accident had ruined Winona's right leg.

She had clawed her way through endless physical therapy, gritting her teeth through the agony, just to walk almost normally again. No one knew the pain she'd endured—except her.

She could manage to walk, but dancing was out of the question.

And every time the weather turned damp, a deep ache returned to her leg, relentless and sharp.

Right now, even though she'd only wanted Tyson to leave her alone, it wasn't a lie—her leg really had started to ache.

"Here, sit down."

Tyson guided her to the edge of the bed, then pulled up a chair across from her, gazing into her eyes with feigned tenderness.

"Let me rub your leg for you, okay?"

"No," Winona replied, her voice taut. "Please just go. I want to rest."

"Nona," Tyson sighed, exasperated, "I know you're still upset. But Celia is like a sister to us. Can't you just be the bigger person, for her sake?"

Winona stayed silent. Tyson didn't seem to notice, continuing on, "Nona, get some sleep tonight, alright? But we're husband and wife—how long are we supposed to keep sleeping in separate rooms? Even Mom called today, asking when we're planning to have kids."

At the mention of children, Winona was instantly reminded of something she'd overheard Tyson say to Celia on the phone that night.

"Nona, why bring this up now?" Tyson's voice sounded strained.

"It's nothing. The rain just made me remember, that's all."

Winona's expression was calm, as if she were merely making small talk.

But Tyson's nerves were shot. He couldn't stand it anymore—he shot to his feet, the chair scraping loudly behind him.

"Get some sleep. I'm going to bed."

He turned and left, slamming the door behind him.

Winona stared at his retreating figure, only letting out a long, shuddering breath once the door clicked shut.

Her phone chimed.

Winona picked it up—it was a message from her assistant.

"Ms. Thorne, you left early tonight and missed a real show. I secretly recorded it for you."

There was a video attached.

The footage showed the private dining room from tonight's dinner party. Tyson and Celia sat pressed close together, every inch the picture of lovers.

The other executives, all a little tipsy, started egging them on, shouting for a kiss.

Celia blushed, protesting halfheartedly—"Stop, you guys!"—even as she leaned in, lips parted, toward Tyson.

The crowd's laughter grew louder. Tyson's gaze never left Celia, his eyes blazing with desire.