The Wife He Tried to Erase

fith

ead on my chest, her breaths soft and even. I felt a fleeting sense of peace, but it was quickly punctured

matic attempts to get my attention. A desperate bid to make me jealous. "She always does this, darling," Beryl

tive. So emotional. I tried to dial her back, just to be sure, but Beryl had snatched my

was always clinging, always needing. It was exhausting. Beryl was vibrant, unpredictable,

ry high-profile event. I threw lavish parties for her, funded her global art tour. Her "Postpartum Reality" i

ke a constant drain. Her artistic "vision" often meant erratic behavior, last-minute changes, and public outbursts that I, as her patron, had

found myself absently reaching for the phone. "Adelia," I murmured, the name slippi

nth. It had been a month. That was unusual, even for Adelia. She always fou

Her quiet presence. Her unwavering loyalty. I pushed Beryl's gourmet takeout c

sliver of moonlight filtering through the window. It had been half a

I' m at the cemet

game. A manipulation. But what if it wasn't? What if I had been wrong? My b

elt cold. My heart slammed against my r

y assistant, pale and stammering, connected th

was sharp, laced with a fea

ngs. They need you to identify them. T

ve got it wrong! Adelia is fine! She

att, we believe Mrs. Wyatt was involved in a narcotics-relat

pure. But the fear, cold and relentless, had already pierced through my

nside, glinting dully, was her wedding ring. The one I had

afficking point along the coast," the detective said, his voice grave. "It

terrifying. Adelia. Dead. Thrown into the sea. I stared at the

No, she's not. She can't be. She's ju

e are treacherous. And the nature of the crime... we believe it was

he dark, who feared enclosed spaces. Thrown into the vast, cold, dark ocean. Her last moments, filled with

stole my breath. I felt a hot gush in my mouth. Blood. I