Ex-Husband's Denial: Wife Reclaims Her Shattered Life

tion that traveled from her fingertips up to her wrists. She pressed her palm flat against her abdomen, feeling the

cket holding a bottle of Dom Pérignon. A small, square card sat next to it. "Three Years," it read in elegant gold

orbell

wel and hurried toward the foyer, her heels clicking agai

oor open, her sm

n't Em

ned uniform, holding a flat, unmarked card

ok the box, the cardboard feel

address. No name. Just a plain brown wrapper. She set it on the console t

buzzed in

screen lit up with the

e swiped to answer, pressing the phone

and impatient. Background noise buzzed behind

l? Where

d breathless, but not with concern fo

arshall. The Hollywood starlet. His college girlfriend. The woman who exist

her voice hollow. "What

ipped, authoritative. "The paparaz

The words came out small, pa

is voice curdled into disgust. "A woman's life i

ut

when I'm home.

ne wen

d to her ear. The dial tone buzzed, a harsh, rhythmic s

phone. Her fin

ops were getting cold. The champagne was sweating in the bucke

take a drink, anything to wash down the bitter

ystal

o the floor. The stem snapped, sending sha

," she w

her knees. She reached for the largest piece

he pai

back that wrapped around to her abdomen like a t

sharp, tearing sensation. It felt like something w

r, her breathing turning shallow.

lled with wet sand. She pushed herself up halfway, sweat breaking out across

ees bu

a jolt of pain up her spine, but it was nothing compared to the agony

tching her stomach. "Please," she cri

. It was hot, too hot, and it soaked throu

ack, her eyes wide with

ep, dark red. The blood was spreading, a bloomin

rom her throat,

ick with her own blood. She grabbed it, sme

Pick up

rang on

el answered, his voice la

words catching in her throat

mbling voice. Carley. "Thank you so much

end, focusing on the phone. "What

the pain ripping through her again.

mor. "You think I'm stupid enough to fall for that? Using a fake pregnancy to co

ear to God, Emma

e path

e click

the phone. The s

redial

iately. "The number you are trying

ath. She dropped the phone. It landed with a soft thud on the

ng table. Her fingers scraped against the wood, but she couldn't get a

o tunnel. The edges

eyes focused on the ice bucket. The bottle of Dom Pérignon sat in

the room se

e antique clock ticked. The min

nig

versary

ed, the silence of the apar