The Wife He Threw Away, Rebuilt

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mess. I bit down hard on my lower lip, tasting blood, willing m

rely a whisper, yet infused with a chilling certainty. "You think you can erase me? You've always been

jealousy she' d harbored since childhood. She' d always been second best, always in my shadow, always craving what was

idea what I'm capable of." She spun on her heel, her expensive gown rustl

y my ragged breaths. The pain in my chest intensified with the encroaching night, radia

ing, pressing it repeatedly. Nothing. Silence. T

aping my lips as searing pain shot through my body. I fought through it, crawling, dragging myself

station, I hea

nt's pain pump off?" a

torial. "He said she was 'faking it' for attention. Said she needs to 'learn her les

neglect. A deliberate act. By Brody. He wante

more. No heartbreak. It was gone. Replaced by a vast, echoing emptiness. The emotional c

ift in position a fresh wave of torture. My body, already ravaged by four years of captivity, teetered on the b

ng lights a cruel déjà vu. This time, Brody was called, and he reluctantly authorize

e relentless physical torment. When I woke, he was there. Brody.

h trouble you're causing? This is an embarrassment. Carla is distraught." He pause

dy?" I rasped, my voice barely audible. "Or the fact that you

misunderstanding," he mumbled, looking away. "The nurses proba

to let me put weight on it, his face etched with concern. He' d stayed by my side for weeks, making sure I was comfortable, bringing me flowers, whispering reassurances. He' d

is devotion was legendary. He' d once punched a reporter for imp

difference, this casual cruelty. His world had a new queen. And