Married to the Man Who Killed Me

a's Jo

e on a Tuesday. L

y landed like hammer blows. "Aggressive

office, Maya beside me, her hand gripping mine so tightly I thought the bones would break.

e confi

hat clung to me like a shroud. The bruises that appeared from nowh

the point in telling him? He wouldn't care. He'

'd had a terrible flu. Feverish,

ally sick. Can

le of a crucial deal. Take some aspirin. Call a d

ght. He'd escorted her. I saw the pictures online the ne

n. My suffering

a whim, from a street vendor during a trip to Italy, before his father had fully orchestrated our lives. It was proba

r, pointless fight. He'd grabbed me, his fingers closing

of junk?" he'd snee

" I'd whispered, te

ement dawning in his eyes. "Did I? Must hav

ut, I'd retrieved it. Mende

life he hadn't chosen, a life that kept him from Chloe, the woman he truly loved. Or thoug

I thought of all the times I'd tried to reach him, to bridge the chasm between us. The carefully prepared

t. Champagne, no doubt. He'd be telling his friends how he was finally free of the shrew, the cold f

e buzze

nswer. What could

, suspicious. "You were serio

he old Olivia, the one who endured, was fading. A

s Bureau. I wouldn't miss it for the wor

a moment. "You s

ybe I'm j

ght. Well, don't b

irony was a

forming. A fin

freedom so badly,

gain. I didn't call Et

Five places. A journey into our

e. He would

woul

I would have

perhaps, a small m

doctors had implied I had. Maybe a little more, wit

mo

a proposal. A f

nt this divorce without a fig

yes, of cou

stions, no complaints. You complete them, and I sign.

s arrogant enough to

what he was abo

ea at