The Wife He Destroyed Returns

lse, something metallic and vaguely unpleasant. A single, harsh spotlight illuminated a worn leather couc

The Tin Woman's Heart.' It is a poetic exploration of a woman who has lost her hu

epicted a woman, clearly meant to be me, in various states of undress. The focus was always on the scars, the stumps of her legs, the

ed, my voice shaking with fury. I threw the fi

s said smoothly, not at al

I shouted, my voice echoing in the la

rible place, but Mark's hand shot out and grabbed the

ow and threatening. The charming mask was gone, replaced

m, my eyes blazing. "Did you know what this was, Ma

a flicker of something-shame, maybe-in his e

uld push boundaries. That's what great art does. And frankly, you should be

me as useless. A broken thing to be sold to the highest bidder. My career, my passio

re. I remembered the way he looked at me across a crowded gallery opening, a look that I thought was filled with love and pride. It was all a lie. A car

able. The man who had whispered those sweet promises was the same man holding

but firm. "I will not be a pa

y chair. "Don't be a fool, Sara

g him straight in the ey