The Player's Wife: A Queen's Revenge

rt hammered against my ribs, a frantic, wild tempo. I was still standing in the ki

ust as it had been. I turned back to the sink, my hands gripping the cool ceramic edge. Breathe, Sarah. Ju

oor, holding a carton of milk. He sa

laced with that fake concern he was s

expression neutral, a mask of mild, wifely tiredness. "Just a lo

hing. I told you, big things are happening. That commission from the He

me docile. It was a classic manipulation tactic, one I' d taught others to

should take that trip to Hawaii, just the two of us. You dese

room. I forced myself to relax, to lean into him, playing the part of the appreciative wife. It was

ng, David," I murm

A floral perfume, sweet and cloying. Not my brand. I wore something subtle, citrusy. This

at me. "See? We just need

fee table. His gaze followed mine. A flicker of someth

ce a little too casual. He walked over and picked it up. "I have

e forum you were on earlier? For car enthusiasts?"

t. Just killing time between emails." He was a terrible liar when you knew what to

you' re really talking to on those sites." My words hung in the air, a subtle warning he would completely misin

"I' m going to go put this away and get some work done in the study

his eyes, the pathetic lie about the car forum-it was all the confirmation I needed. The betrayal was

on the assumption of my naive

go to our master bedroom. Instead, I went to the spare room at the end of the hall, th

hes, was a locked metal box. I hadn' t opened it in eight years. No

hin chain around my neck, hidden under my shirt-f

s a sleek, unmarked burner phone

ed. For years, I had believed that love was about sacrifice, about softening my edges, ab

worth, and turned our home into a lie. He t

activated his sing

ed to life. My old self, the woman I had b