His Fake Wife, Her Real Voice

ught a book, a Cormac McCarthy novel Andrew always said was for people who

everything, he sure knows how to

t me. All that bleak, minimalist pr

nking, I reached over and took her hand. It was just lying there

ing by the open door of the suit

, sitting by Nicole' s bed, her hand in mine, reading. The lighting from the window was soft, my expressi

of tragedy. Austin' s Tech Princess ha

ad three mi

was suddenly, bizarrely, famous. The internet had decided I wa

Nicole, scrolling through the comments.

ee conversations, and one was abo

smug satisfaction. For the first time in my life, people were

d the rumors about Nicole' s condition. The next day, Anderson

mother. She was a formidable woman with sharp eyes and a steel s

lummeting stock chart. "Mr. Cl

that,"

r eyes landed on me. "That video... it gave me an idea. The public sees you as a symbol of h