Chapter 17 His world collapsed. Gideon slammed the report to the table and bent over it, his fingers clawing into his hair. Shame, fury, and a self-loathing so strong it stole his breath crashed through him and pulverized everything he thought he was. He remembered, one by one, the times he had trusted Elaine, the times he had hurt and punished Angela for her, the stupid, swaggering lines: She can't live without me. She's malicious. Of course I believe Elaine. A sound broke out of him, caged-animal low. He lurched to his feet and smashed whatever he could reach- a cup, an ashtray, a chair-until the room lay in ruins. His chest heaved. His eyes burned red and dry. No tears came-only the pain and the urge to wreck what he had built on lies. He prided himself on judgment, on the calm that won him fights. In love he had been blind enough to mistake a snake for a pearl and grind a faithful heart into the floor. He grabbed the guesthouse phone and dialed home. Elaine answered, sweet as ever. "Gideon? When are you coming back? It's scary being here alone-" "Elaine Ward," he said, each syllable like ice, naked with disgust. "Get out of my house. Now. Take everything that's yours and go." Silence. Then the wail. "What's wrong? Did Angela say something again? She's lying about me! Let me explain-" "Explain?" His laugh was a blade. "Save it for a court-martial. From today on, there's nothing between us -or your family and mine. Every favor, every channel, every cent I extended to the Wards-I'm pulling it all." He hung up before she could breathe another word. He did not feel lighter. The only person he owed weighed on him like a debt that might never be paid. So he stayed. He went to the factory gate at quitting time every day. If she refused to speak, he shadowed her at a distance until the light lit in her single-room window in that old railroad tenement. He saw her rinse vegetables in cold water and hauled up a pail of hot-she threw it away without a word. He taught himself to shop and cook, burned and over-salted and tried again. He left a hot meal in a thermos on her step; he watched it land in the trash. He noticed the red in her hands when the cold bit and bought a hot water bottle and gloves, new and good. Cheater 17 73.91% He set them by her door. The next morning they sat under a dusting of gray. He was clumsy as a schoolboy, and everything he was good at turned useless in front of her. Orders and force emptied out, leaving only a mute stubbornness. He also noticed the young technician at the plant-Chris Allen-who liked her. Chris was gentle and patient, showed her tricks on the machines, lifted what was heavy. Angela nodded, sometimes traded a line or two. Jealousy flared so hot it made Gideon's vision press in. He could do nothing with it. He had thrown away the right to demand or even ask. He balled his fists and swallowed hard. Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.