Damnnnnn I'm so sorry this chapter took so long. I was going through a writer's block trying to figure out how I wanted this story to unfold and I think I finally have it.

Also I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes, I quite rushed the writing of this chapter and the story is unbeta'd so it's possible that some mistakes might have escaped me. Please bear with me :*

Enjoy ;)))

"Morning, Chief" his subordinate Lieutenant Kara Foster greeted him when he set foot in the precinct.

There was hardly anyone within earshot to them and Tom decided for a more informal greeting "Morning to you too, Kara". Despite her being much younger than he was, the two had an easy relationship going, both running in the same social circles outside of work.

"Why are you here so early?" she enquired. Being Chief gave him some advantages, one of them being that he didn't have to start work as early as he used to.

Why exactly was he there so early? Because I'm hoping to find some dirt on the husband of a woman I don't even know that well? Precisely.

"Oh, I have a thing going on later on in the afternoon and I thought I'd come in earlier" his lieutenant nodded, even thought he didn't think she was completely convinced. However he hadn't given her reason to doubt him so he was safe for now. "I'll see you around, huh"

"Of course, Chief" she addressed him more formally as some more officers were now around them.

Tom gave her a small smile and started walking towards his office. "Oh, and" he stopped and turned around "You did a great job with the McNeill case" this earned him a wide smile from the woman

Tom's little late night research had unfortunately given no real results on Michael as he had barely scraped the tip of the iceberg on him. He didn't discover much on Rachel's husband other that he was a rather successful hedge fund manager who was a former lawyer and co-ordinated several humanitarian organisations around the world. Basically the perfect citizen.

However Tom knew there was something fishy about Michael and -even though he hoped he was wrong- he was determined to find out what it was, hence why he was at the precinct so early. With his work database he would be able to view past records, family relations and a throughout background check that was not available to the public,

"Damn," Tom whispered softly looking at his screen. The first rows of information on Michael King didn't manifest any type of reaction from him, but his Family section made him genuinely gasp.

According to this information -and Tom didn't doubt it was accurate- at the age of 12 Michael had been in a car accident in which his mother and younger sister had been killed. A transport truck had blindsided their car because apparently the driver hadn't been able to hit the brakes in time, leaving Michael and his father as the lone survivors.

An investigation had been conducted anyways, to ensure that it had been in fact an accident. An autopsy was performed on the two victims but - and this is the part that really struck Tom- there were more injuries present in their bodies than those expected from the crash.

A document from the Medical Examiner described the damage in detail and, as he skimmed through it, Tom noticed something that caught his eye. According to the report Aisha King, Michael's mother, present extensive vaginal lacerations and several hand shaped bruising was shown in areas like the neck and breasts, which did not match the incident's injuries.

The case was marked as a high-possibility domestic violence but the investigation didn't proceed any further as the KIng's lawyers discredited most of the officers working on it.

Tom saw that some pictures were attached to the file. He clicked on them.

The sight of the two bodies covered in bruising had his stomach in knots - and he had a strong stomach-. It was obvious that only seventy percent of the injuries actually were from the incident.

Going out of the case file Tom saw that Michael had also a previous restraining order by a certain Alex Montgomery. The woman had filed a restraining order against her ex-boyfriend following an altercation between the two which had ended in him hitting her. Ms. Montgomery had pressed charges against him but had later retracted them.

Tom rubbed his eyes with his hands, allowing all the retrieved information to sink in: what did this mean for Rachel? Was she in danger?

He wanted to feel content for discovering all of this but couldn't help but experience extreme disquietness.

Rachel hated herself so much.

She was doing some research on her computer when the pc had crashed. Normally she would have just tried a hard reset of the device after a couple of minutes but, as she looked outside the studio's door, she saw Michael in the living room, relaxing while reading a book, and she had the worst terrible idea ever.

"Hey Michael, there's something wrong with the computer" the words were out of her mouth before she could think of the consequences. No, you shouldn't have told him. What if he can't fix it?

Her husband was by her side in just a couple of seconds. "I'll take care of it, woman. Should be pretty straightforward"

He was good with computers, good with his hands. He liked fixing things, solving problems for her. And if he could have fixed it then everything would have been fine.
But he couldn't.

Ten minutes later and Rachel knew there was nothing pretty straightforward about what he was doing. Michael was growing more frustrated by the minute, she could see it by the set of his shoulders that it wasn't going well, and Rachel felt it in the atmosphere, like an electrical charge before a storm, that this was going to end badly.

"Hey don't worry about it," she said "Just leave it"
"I can do it. I know what the problem is, I just need to... Damn it!"
He started swearing, starting off softly and then louder and louder. His voice was like a blow and she hated how she winced every time.

As his fury was rising, a matching fury rose within her, because she could already see how the morning was going to end and how it could have proceeded if she hadn't made such a foolish mistake.

She knew that the way events had unfolded was on her. There was frustration in her voice when she said "Michael, just leave it, please" and she knew she could have been more patient, spoken more nicely. Said nothing.
He spun the chair around to face her and she saw his eyes were already shiny with rage. It was too late, he was gone.
It was all over, red rover.

But she didn't retreat. She refused to. She wanted to fight to the end, because of the injustice of it all, the ridiculousness of it. I asked him to help me. It shouldn't be like this, a part of her continued to rage inwardly, as the yelling began and her heart pounded and her muscles tensed. It's not fair. It's not right.

The fight had been worse than the last one. Far worse. They both had built up rage they were using, and they both refused to retreat.

Her shoulder was killing her; it had hit the bookshelf badly when Michael had pushed her, but not before she had landed a kick on his stomach.
A part of her knew she had to stop, had to let him win. He was still a child, emotionally. He had to have the upper hand. But the other part in her refused to let him get away unscratched.

It was probably one of the worse fights they had ever had. When they were done the studio looked like a war zone.
This isn't healthy. This isn't right.

But all couples fought, right?

The only reason she was working at the computer in the first place was because she had the day off from work.
What was she supposed to do now that the mood was ruined?

Michael was back in the living room, watching some TV and, even though she wanted to leave the house, she knew he would have insisted on going out with her.
So she settled to go and try the pool in the house.

She started by doing a couple of laps around the pool as a warm-up. Being in the water was doing wonders to her and her body, taking her mind off things and keeping her busy.

She was halfway through her old swimming routine when Michael made an appearance in the room. He was only wearing swimming trunks and Rachel had to keep herself from sighing. She just wanted to spend some time alone, why couldn't he realise that?
He got in the pool as well and started to work on some laps himself.

She didn't know when this whole thing turned into a race, but it did. And it was a pretty competitive one.

She could tell she wasn't the only one out of breath, but she wasn't going to be the first one to stop.

She arrived at the edge of the pool after an indefinite number of laps and she looked up to see how far behind Michael was, just to notice him looking at her just some inches away from the centre.
"Come here, Rach. There are bubbles"

She thought about refusing his offer, carrying on with her laps, but her body was tired. Her back was still aching from their fight a couple of days ago and her shoulder was beginning to protest against all this exercise.
She slowly made her way towards him, refusing to look at him directly in the eye.

The bubbles did feel amazing against her sore body, and she could feel the knots in her muscles starting to dissipate.

She felt her husband's arm come around her shoulder, pulling her arm so she was facing him.
"Ow!" She clutched at her tender right shoulder. For a moment the pain was so sharp, she had to fight nausea.
"Rachel," said Michael. She looked at him and could see the shameful recognition in his eyes. He knew exactly why it had hurt so much. And she knew there would be another piece of jewellery in his bag tomorrow. Or maybe it was going to be a dress. Or even a night out at a fancy restaurant.

For a moment Rachel couldn't speak. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she refused to let them out. She shook her head.
"I'm fine," she said

Fancy night out it was.

When Michael came into the bedroom later that day to tell her he had made a reservation at a restaurant in town, Rachel was everything but surprised.
He hadn't offered any explanation and she hadn't asked; after all, she knew exactly why he was doing it.

Michael stopped the car in front of a certain restaurant called 'The Gilden Cage', just outside Peak Highs, where a valet was waiting to collect it.

"The Gilden Cage? Sound like a name for a strip club" Rachel joked, immediately wondering if he was going to snap at her.
What she didn't expect was to hear Michael's uproarious laughter. He sounded like a child and she soon found herself laughing with him.

They made their way to the entrance of the restaurant, barely holding each other up because of the chortling.
As soon as Rachel entered the building she was assaulted by the smell of refined food and expensive wine; of course, these two things didn't exactly have a specific odour but if they did that's what it would have been.

The girl at the front desk was a pretty, petite blonde waitress who was battling her eyelashes to Michael; girls were always so smitten by him: maybe it was his Bradley Cooper appeal or the way he always smiled at them or gave them their undivided attention. For one reason or another, women of any age were always attracted to Michael.

I wonder if they would still find him attractive if they knew what he does to me, she thought.
"It's under King, love. For two" Michael's voice brought her back to reality.
The reception girl nodded "Follow me please" and they did as they were told.

Rachel had to give him some credit: he had scored a pretty good table for them. It wasn't too far away from the central room of the restaurant, but it definitely allowed them to have some privacy. The table was set beside one of the three big windows in the chamber overlooking a beautiful lake that she had no idea even existed.

A waitress came to their table just seconds after they had settled, high pony swaying left and right. "Hello guys, I'm Becky and I'll be your waitress for the night. What can I get you to drink while you look at our menu?" she said eagerly. Too eagerly.
"I'll have a 2005 Château Pétrus if you mind," Michael told her with a grin and the girl giggled. Rachel thought she was back in high school.
"I'll just have a bottle of natural water, please" she could almost see the young girl becoming disappointed with her choice. Or maybe she was just imagining it.
"Alright, I'll be back with your drinks right away," she told them and then she was gone

Michael and she took a moment to look at the menu. Rachel didn't know where to start. There was so much to chose from and she was so unsure about everything and she didn't want to anger him. She had to restrain herself from sighing.

The girl was back in a matter of minutes, definitely not giving her enough time to decide. "Can I take your orders or do you need more time to think?" she asked them
"No, we're ready to order, thank you" Michael responded "I'll have the Hanger Steak. I'd like it medium-rare"
The waitress nodded, taking down his order.
"I'll have the risotto with prawns, please"
"That's perfect, thank you. I'll be back with the orders in around fifteen minutes. Is that okay?" they both modded as Becky left.

"This place is nice, isn't it?" he said
"Michael, please" he looked at her confused "Stop"
"I'm sorry imI don't understand, love.
I'm having dinner at a nice restaurant with my beautiful wife, making conversation"
She shook her head "No, listen to me, please" she didn't know where she got the courage to interrupt him, but she wasn't complaining "The thing that we have going here, the two of us, this isn't working, okay? It isn't healthy and it isn't normal.
The way we hurt each other is not safe and this... this game we're playing has to come to an end"

He was silent for a moment and she wondered what his next move would be "You're absolutely right, oh God I hate the way I hurt you today and I'm so sorry I... I just couldn't I don't know... control myself, I guess. I'm so sorry, Rach"

For a moment she couldn't speak. "I think..." oh, how to say the next words delicately, in a way that he wouldn't take it too bad, "I think that ... that we need help" she nodded "Professional help"
He looked at her with horror "Are you suggesting we see a therapist?" she was afraid he was going to raise his voice, publicly making a scene.
She nodded.
But he didn't. "Sure, if that's what you want"
Had she heard that right? Had it really been that easy?
"This time we should pick a different one, maybe" he added

Their food arrived but she was still too caught up inside her head to bother with eating.

She and Michael had tried therapy a couple of months after getting married, just after some disputes they'd had.
She was ecstatic at first: they would finally fix their relationship and be the couple everyone envied.
But as they entered the therapist's office, she saw the old, used couch, the ripped carpet and the far too young, fervid therapist. It was her first time working with a couple, she'd told them, and she was eager to work with them. Far too eager.
Rachel knew this was going to be their first and last session.

During their time with her they only barely scratched the surface. "We fight sometimes" they had told her and she had looked at them with her brow furrowed.
How could she admit to a stranger that her partner, her husband, hit her? That she hit him back too? That he left bruises all over her body but that she didn't let him win until he was bruised as well? She couldn't.

She was so young and naïve she was immediately charmed by Michael. During the session they would start talking about something that Rachel had never heard of, making her feel dumb and low.

When they left the old room they were both relieved that was over. They were so ecstatic they left the therapist and went into a bar and started flirting with each other. They were all laughs and smiles; maybe therapy had really solved their problems. The enthusiasm only kept increasing as the night went on that they quite literally left and got a room in a hotel nearby. Rachel actually couldn't believe she was behaving like his.

When Michael told her they were going to a hotel, Rachel almost had a heart attack. He would do this sometimes. He said or did something that made her feel as besotted with him as she'd been that very first year after they'd met at that boring conference, where she'd first truly understood those four words: swept off my feet.

"You better eat that now or it will get cold" she looked up, just to see her husband smiling at her with his full, dimpled smile.
"Yeah, right"
She looked at him while he was eating and she realised how relaxed he really looked right now. Could he really change? Or was this the calm before the storm?

Please please please review! I'm dying to know what y'all think of this.