Six Years of Poisoned Love

y soul. My hands trembled, the steering wheel suddenly too cold, too hard beneath my fingers. I watched as he guided Carson, so fragile

u're going to make an honest woman out of me," she purred, her voice a little stronger now, laced wit

ot now. We've discussed this. Give me time. Everything will be handled discr

want me to tell Haylie all about our little family? She's always wanted a child, hasn't she? I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know she's g

e, Carson. Don't you ever threaten me. Haylie has nothing to do with this. This is about our son,

o fierce when you're protective. It's exhilarating." She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Come on, let's go cele

sionate kiss, his hand caressing her burgeoning belly. They climbed back into his car, the vehicle rocking slightly as they settled

d revulsion. The sounds, muffled but unmistakable, reached my ears. Every groan, every gasp, tore at my very being. It

t and stinging. That man, Alexander, my husband, the man I loved, the man I had given my life to, was reduced to this

something pure and enduring. He had held me, consoled me, vowed eternal fidelity. He had built this perfect, beautiful lie around me, brick by brick, until it became my entire world. And now,

erase this moment from existence. The image of them, entwined and shameless, was burned onto my eyelids. The image of the hickey

drove, blindly, through the city streets, the world outside a blur. The pristine white walls of my gallery, the

ie, always and forever. My heart, my soul, my life are yours." He had promised me children, a family. He had promised me a love that would never fal

d my desires, and fed me lies disguised as hope. And all for a son he couldn't have with me, a son he desired more than he desired me. The son, the he

ice crisis' kept me longer than expected. But I'm making it up to you. Big pl

. Oh, he had no idea what kind of surprise awaited him. He thought he could still mani

for appearances? For his family's reputation? Or because he simply couldn't be bothered with the m

emotion replaced by a chilling clarity. I had a birthday party

, my hand in his, our smiles bright and full of promise. A delicate porcelain vase he' d bought me in Italy. The plush velve

y mug of Alexander's "fertility tonic." I poured the contents down the drain, the dark liquid swirling away, carrying with it years of f

magazines. It was Alexander's old journal, the one he'd kept during our courtship, filled with his elegant handwriting.