The Billionaire's Wife: A Death That Wasn't
root cellar was a phan
out her past, the girl
town, smelling of diner grease and d
urity, was something Marcus h
ah," he'd said.
he idea of it, as ano
ght back the choking dust, the skit
was a raw,
hen Marcus first
lwind, charismat
istened to her father's worr
ked, and for a moment, she hadn
rom some leering local boys who'd ma
voice calm but edged with s
ed like a s
ow, a stark contrast to the man who
dflower," he had told her,
e perfume, a unique
, beautiful in y
vulnerability as a canvas for
project, his
y he'd used then no
't love; it w
ed her with g
ner's debts, movi
the designer clothes,
ht, under a sky full of
h. Let me give
e had yearned for escape
all three, or
ed devotion made his current
ay to the upstate estate, Sarah
ses, all that "
ieved his own twis
ndow, the city lights
as a cold, hard k
ofound, an ocean s
ze for Tiffany's lies
ed at her, h
any when we get back. For t
nd slowly, deliberat
n her lap. No signs. Just
d. "Defiant to t
the car was thi
Tiffany was already there, waitin
rcus, her face a
re you alright? Is *she
ing, her feigned i
was enjoying this,
her role perfectly,
around Tiffany,
my dear. I'll
th a tenderness that ma
a... firm remind
was clear. He was blind to Tiffany
in her ambition was something
use, towards the old, abandoned fa
ing, casting lon
oing," Marcus said, his
ify. The dread was a l
ly security guards who
lar. No light. No food.
ven if only before his staff and Ti
gh Sarah, followed
her, unresisting, t
p earth, decay, and the faint
ghtened its grip
esign, his spe
place was h
eavy wooden doors open
d down the rickety wooden steps,
above her, plunging her
cked, a soun
clawed
s was oppre
the faint skitterin
. Her heart hammer
d. The memory, usually a
his rough hands, her small
ssing her hands over her ears, trying to blo
own her face, si
estation of her fe
ion echoed in
is? The man who had on
d called her h
her? Or was it all a g
n him was shattered, ground int
was as painf
ce. He knew what
nt; it was torture, tailo