His Fake Death, Her Real Power

nspoken questions. I could picture Ethan Thorne in his high-rise of

utious. "That was a long time ago, Miss Miller. And under ve

said, my voice low and tight. "And I

he couldn't possibly. "Why don

via. I told him about the six suicide attempts and the conversation I had just overheard. I left nothing out. My voi

, there was ano

t of fact. The disgust in his voice was palpable. "And he's pr

es

other is h

es

aid. "I always knew Peterson was a cowar

trange comfort. It mad

t not as a point to be proven. It stands because what he did to you is unforgivable. I

dy now,"

. Mrs. Peterson was at the table, sipping he

ing this morning,

looked her directly in the eye. "

as sickening. "That's wonderful to hear, Sar

athtaking. I just nod

dressed in a somber suit, his face arranged into a mask of c

rotherly care. "Mom told me you were doing a bit bet

, I saw a flicker of something else in his expression-not concern

ng name. The name of the man he was impersonating, the m

edge of the armchair across from me. "Losing David... he was my

screaming. I wanted to claw his eyes out. I wanted to tell him I knew, to wat

ng of the man I thought I loved. This was a

words back at him. "For Olivia's sake, too. Your

of a second. "Yes. She's... very fragile

ouble meaning hung in the air, bu

arm. His touch felt like a brand. I

Sarah," he said. "We'll get thr

a stone in my chest. All the love I had for him, all the pain of his "de

to be the grieving, fragile fiancée. I

de. My escape was planned. And

hen the time was right, I would bu

, offering him a small, broken

s deception was working. He had n