Hidden Wife: Rising From The Ashes

nor'

rning, the iron l

eight elevator. "Get out. Mr. Donovan says if you're still within a hundred mil

ry muscle in my chest and abdomen felt torn and crushed, but I forced m

back to my small a

ffel from under the bed and started packing essentials: my birth certificate, high school diploma, my mothe

doorknob, re

utside, the force of it knockin

and Gia s

-not a trace of injury from falling down stairs. In her arms she c

od ran

t that box?" I asked, my v

righton has a spare key to your restoration lab locker at the institute. We thought s

fourteenth-century illuminated manuscript on loan from the state historical archives! It's on fede

en us, shoving me brut

ous push yesterday. She's resting in bed. What's wrong with her looking at something beautiful? The fact that she hasn't p

tole a national treasure from a secured room! This is g

apologize to Gia immediately, admit you pushed her down the stairs, and may

mously. "Here, Eleanor. You

ooden box out toward

ing out with both hands, terrified of d

ly clamped down on the edge, flipped the lid open, and tore with all her m

ted tempera fragments shattered into jagged piec

oor, grinding her heel into three scattered pages. "Look what you'v

nt blank w

ving countless wars and plagues, destroyed in three

erupted from the

njured wrist, forgot the

eft, I lunged at Gia Delaney like a

s. I slammed her head into the hardwood floor aga

ly until blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "Everything you touch

l, writhing beneath me. "Bright

bed my hair, and wrenched me

ve my elbow like a sledgehammer

g his windpipe. For the first time in his life, he saw unreserved, to

ragging that monster out of the fire was the worst mistake of my life. I'm done with y

nor... listen... the manuscript can still be saved.

to the police right now to report you for

up from the floor

d theatrically, voice weak as a thread. "I can't bre

of panic and guilt in Bright

k from behind, driving his knee into my lower b

behind my back until the tendon tore again. "You think you can destroy my career and

dcuffs from his pocket and lo

is phone and diale

ency admission. My wife has acute severe psychosis. She destroyed extremely valuable historical artifacts and attempted to murder a p

"Brighton, no! You can't send me to a priva

were-modern private dungeons for the rich and powerful, places sanctimonious scummy lawyers

n at me, calmly adj

and whispered coldly. "When you finally learn your place and

ly men in white uniforms ki

le through my jeans into my thigh. Then they dragged me down

iron bed in a windowless cement cell, the

asted concentrated salt water from a high-pressure hose at my wounds, then sprayed me with high-concentration pepper spray. M

ctroshock machine," the head orderly sneere

inhuman torture in that hellhole hadn't broke

food slot to pass in a cup of liquid sedative. I collapsed t

avy iron door, baton raised,

es. I drove the sharpened plastic end of a toothbr

pped a chain I'd ripped from the bed around his throat, a

y stripped off his uniform, pulled it on, grabbed his

iles through pitch-black woods to a highway gas station, and used the two hundred do

connecting ticket, then rode buses for three days and two nights across the country to Seat

My baby was dead. My

ia Delaney. You too

myself and take bac