His Mistress, Her Freedom

in. She was sitting at a small table by the window, a sliver of sunlight illuminating her honey-blonde hair. She looked exactly like her pictures. And she looked e

ile that didn't reach her eyes. The leather-bou

us. "It's so good to finally put a face to the

he'd intended. I sat down, my spin

ut. He said it was just some of your old college clutter. But I saw it and I thought it was... char

ts under the table. She was looking at my work, my private thoughts

"He feels so trapped. He said he only married you because he was lonely after I left, and you

t Liam's lover, she was his accomplice. They had probably laughed about it together, la

, Sarah," I said, my

t few pages, where my most ambitious sculpture designs were. "These are interesting. But you don't do t

rough me. This woman, this original to my copy, was sitting here with my pa

id, reaching across t

and covered it.

pulled back. The book was caught between us. For a m

o," I

ook split in two, pages scattering across the tab

He must have been waiting outside. His eyes darted

" he rushed to her side,

ing with tears. She held up her hand, where a tiny,

to catch myself, and it had slammed against the sharp corner of the table. A searing pain shot up my arm. I loo

adling my arm. "I think

nd annoyed. "Stop being so dramat

hand, his voice full of a tender concern that made my stomach heav

by the torn pages of my past, with a broken wrist and a shattered heart. The pain in my arm was immense, but it was nothing compared to the agony o

myself. The admitting nurse looked at my wrist an

he words tasting li

a process that involved a horrifying crunch and a w

e wanted an update on Sarah Jenkins. He said she was the

o check on the woman with a scratch. The cruelty of it was so absolute, so breathtaking, it was almost clarifying. There was nothing left to salvage. T