Five Years In Hell: The Ex-Wife's Revenge

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e marble table, the embossed "Justice S

dealing with her, but Anabel, in her arrogance, had tried to shove me. Then the escalator abruptly lost power-h

d murdered his mistress. He threatened me with d

cular frame blocking the only ceiling lig

HL franchise and the heir to the Justice empir

om the table and hurled it down in front of

elly, as if crawling up from hell. "Then get out of my

meet his furious gray-b

ck. The escalator lost pow

with a rough hand calloused from years of gripping a h

the sheer physical pain, though I bit my lower lip to keep

from the leather sofa, the heavy scent

two arena security guard

ven the General Manager is staying clear

st the cold glass wall overloo

a murderer's excuses?" he snarled

nd slapped them against my chest. The stiff edge of the p

ater had been dumped over my head, freezing me from the inside out. Fifte

ned his hand, my body slid down the

rbett" on the bottom line with shaking fingers, while an invi

ack without glancing at my signa

n to the memo

, grabbing my arms and hauling me out of the

lare of white fluorescent lights that made my head spin,

he hem of his tailored black o

ng hockey fans, was draped in black and white clot

portrait of Anabel Osborne, the famous supermodel and Ch

nded the pavement, thunder rumbling over the rapid cl

memorial platform and turned to m

nd repen

ed, my legs s

iar," I whispered, my hear

and kicked the back of my

ees crashed onto the marble floor with a

d pressed his heavy boot onto my calf, pin

all directions as reporters s

us ex-wife who kille

y ever let a gold digger l

g lights, watching me get torn apart

e of blood filled my mouth, my fingers curli

ushing my ear so only I could h

e beginning of y