A Widow's Poison, A Wife's Rebellion novel Chapter 2

Fairfax took a long drag from his cigarette, a hint of frustration in his sigh. He reached out and ruffled her hair.

“Come on, was today really the time to be so difficult?” he chided gently. “My brother is gone, and Brinley is carrying his children. What was all that drama about earlier?”

His voice softened. “The babies are so cute, just tiny little things. You’d love them if you saw them.”

His condescending tone, coupled with the tender way he spoke of the twins, was the last straw. Starla’s anger boiled over. She slammed her fork down on the table with a loud clatter, cutting him off.

“Someone else’s children are just so precious, aren’t they?” she spat, her eyes blazing with fury.

Seeing her temper flare again, Fairfax’s expression darkened. “What do you mean, ‘someone else’s’? Those are my brother’s children!”

Starla let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so you do remember they’re your brother’s? From the way you act, I was starting to think they were yours!”

“Starla!” Fairfax roared.

Starla shot up from her chair and slapped him hard across the face. Her eyes were filled with a mixture of hatred and grief. “I want a divorce.”

Let him play the white knight for Brinley if he wanted. She had endured this for six long months, and she was done.

Fairfax’s eyes turned icy. “She gave birth to my brother’s children today. He’s dead. Am I supposed to just stand by and do nothing?”

“His children, right,” Starla scoffed. “Does that give you the right to cross every line? To ignore the fact that your own child was dying?”

The doctor had said if she’d gotten to the hospital sooner, the baby might have been saved. The searing pain of the procedure, the feeling of her baby being torn from her body, was still fresh.

“The entire Yelchin family, twenty-something people, were all fawning over her. Wasn’t that enough? Did she really need you that badly?”

Brinley had just given birth to twins, a momentous event for the family. They couldn’t let the new mother feel neglected, and having Fairfax—the spitting image of his late brother—around would surely comfort her.

Fairfax released Starla, patting her cheek condescendingly. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up for me. Be good.”

With that, he turned to leave with his mother.

They had just reached the door when Starla, her fury reaching its peak, shoved the dining table with all her might. With a deafening crash, everything on it—plates, glasses, soup—shattered on the floor. The two of them froze and spun around.

“Starla, what are you doing?” Darleen shrieked, once the initial shock wore off. “The Yelchin family just welcomed twins! On such a joyous day, who is this display for?”

Starla glared at her, her face a mask of cold fury. “Brinley wants my soup? Since when do I know how to make soup?”