The Wife He Left To Drown

an Hans

, her eyes, her chillingly calm demeanor – they were all wrong. I thought I knew her, k

t, pushing past the stun

She moved with a strange, unnatural grace, like a porcelain doll wound too tight. She was heading straight for Gisselle, w

ct Gisselle. That was th

hand shot out, grabbing her arm, but she shrugged it off with surprisin

commanded, my tone

nd Gisselle, forming a protective barrier. Their training kicked in, a silent, efficient m

reached out and plucked the champagne flute from Gisselle' s trembling hand. She didn' t even glance at Gisselle.

as mocking me. She was playing a game I didn'

t was always reserved for Gisselle. Alexandra laughed then, a low, guttural sound that sent

d whispered. She knows you' ll

yal protector... she was gone. In her place was something sharp, unknown, and terrifying. She had finally seen through my facade, perhaps even

ed on mine. The bubbly liquid seemed to burn her throat. She co

cutting. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, a wide, unsettling smile splitting her face. "Allow me to introduce Gisselle

ion. People exchanged uncomfortable glances, their eyes darting from me to Gisselle, then b

t in Monaco?" I heard one socialite whisper. "And the ca

ckly interjected, pulling her frien

ors, walked slowly towards Gisselle. Gisselle, her face a mask of confusion and fear, clutch

emerald-cut diamond ring I had given her on our "engagement" – the one she had thought symbolized our futu

eplacing her fear. She reached out, her fingers tremb

filled with a mixture of anger and humiliation. That ri

I being a good little wife?" She batted her eyelashes, a grotesque parody of Gisselle' s innocen

ement, sent a fresh wave of nausea through me. My vision s

desperate. "Alexandra, let's go. You need to eat." A flicker of genuine co

ng this charade, Christian?" My voice was

elle broke the tense silence. "Ch

ed in exaggerated pain. All concern for Alexandra, for the scene she was creating, vanished. "Gissel

Don't worry." Then, I noticed the elaborate shrimp cocktail on the tray beside her. "You haven't eaten,

ation attempt, Alexandra had asked me to peel a shrimp for her. "Christian, my hand is still a little weak," she' d said, a rare plea for tenderness. I' d looked

oulder throbbed, a dull, insistent ach

cigarette clutched between my fingers, the cherry a tiny, fierce beacon in the gloom. The

strode in, his eyes narrowed at the smoke curling around me. "What are you do

ing, Christian. It's what people

piled high with foo

pected. A flicker of something, curiosi

uldn't finish it. Too much for her delicate stomach." He toss

fore, clenched. The food, once a potential peace off

re going to quit together," he declared, his voice firm. He strode to the window,

aying on my lips. "Why the sudden

st imperceptibly. "It's for Gisselle. She's s

ter a particularly brutal mission, I' d started smoking heavily. Christian had noticed. "Alexandra, stop that," he' d ordered. "It's a bad hab

vibrated. A new message. A fl

. Christian's eyes had already darted to the phone. "What's that