Wedded Lies: The Perfect Trap

ed into the room. I had prepared myself for

office. It

f the "accident." Candid shots, posed pictures, stolen moments. Beneath each one,

The day I reali

e was so nervous,

you how I felt. I r

o close together. I remembered him as a charismatic, if troubled, musician. Now, I saw him for wha

rs worn smooth from years of being handled. This w

in here, claiming she was on a deadline, under pressure from a client

e items that had made headlines for being sold at auction to a mysterious, anonymous bidder for exorbitant prices. Clara, the PR exec

ty auction where I had bought her a diamond necklace last year. The pick had been the final, most sou

wrist. Without thinking, I smashed it against the edge of the display case. The crystal

I s

om-built pedestal, was a life-sized,

ic hair styled just like his. It was grote

from a silver chain, was my m

draiser in her name. The one Clara had praised me

mother's memory and draped it around the

sterile scent of antiseptic from the medical equipment I now noticed tucked behind a screen. The combination, a

etching onto the pristine white carpet.

f my hand, my body shaking with

t obsessed. Sh

ut Clara, in a few days, discovering that her precious R

crashing down around her, was the on