Tom's POV
The sharp click of my lighter cut through the silence like a blade. Snap open. Snap shut. The rhythm was methodical, almost meditative, but it did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside my chest. I sat motionless on the couch, my posture relaxed to anyone who might glance my way, but my mind was anything but peaceful. My eyes moved between the ticking clock and the front door, willing it to open, dreading the moment it finally would.
To an outsider, I probably appeared composed. The successful businessman waiting patiently for his wife to return home. But beneath that facade, fury was building like pressure in a steam pipe, threatening to blow at any second.
The household staff had already retreated to the kitchen. They knew better than to linger when I was in this mood. I could see it in their hurried movements earlier, the way they avoided eye contact and spoke in hushed whispers. Smart women. Tonight was not the night to test my patience.
