Discarded Wife: The Shadow Strategist Returns

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ty that felt entirely personal. It was the first gift Craig had ever given me. He had stolen

k trash bag from

k from last night had hardened into a co

s. Every shiny, expensive shackle he had clamped onto me went into the

rie he bought. The furs he draped over my shoulders to show

arriage. The shelves were empty. The vanity was bare. It felt sterile.

re you

hirt from last night, unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up. He reeke

y closet. His brow furrowed, not in worry, b

g," I said. My

ressure changed immediately. He took up so much sp

d before my brain could interv

wed. "What is wrong with you? You were we

ine,"

his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He tossed i

as staggering. It was enough

omething nice. You deserve it.

ode for blind. That was

s hush money. It was him purchasing forgivenes

The words tasted li

ch-the Patek Philippe. "Business. The Sen

" I said. "

care. He leaned in to kiss me. I turned my head at th

ate tonigh

sually

adn't unpacked a single thing. He didn't notice that hi

walk down the driveway. A black SUV

f his dress shirts, the fabric swallowing her small frame. She laughed and said something to

The car d

en tilt of the earth. The room spun. I grabbed th

the bathroom and emptied my e

stress. I knew the rhythm of my own body, and I realized

he family driver. I took my old sedan, the o

n to ask questions. He ran the tests. He came

weeks along,

ning. The silence in

nyder know?

my hea

math worked out perfectly to the last time he was drunk an

ba

ch. A life. A tiny, innocent s

e, I was just leaving a husban

sory for a King. He would lock me in the tower and throw away the key.

t let tha

a blur of gray and concrete. I fel

g room. The fireplace w

watched the paper curl, blacken, and

lace in. The ear

consumed the symbols of hi

the flames dance. My han

o the spark of life inside

a mother. And a mother would burn th