The Ex-Wife's Fiery Reckoning

are you i

at had fooled me so completely the first time. He burst through the service doors, his face a perfect mask of

, I stayed put, crouched behind the steel island, my eyes n

e yelled again, making a show

iscreet exit as planned. She was supposed to be the "protégé trapped inside," the one Mark "coul

ve. I let the silence stretch,

himself, his tone shifting from performance to

g the chaos. Chloe, seeing he was getting bogged do

strain of the fire, was hanging by a thread. In my first life, i

n I expected, but my adrenaline was a powerful fuel. With a guttural cry, I

d splintered. With a horrific crack, the m

even have t

iek of agony ripped through the air, a sound so different from the fake dr

he carefully constructed mask of the h

HLO

ror and rage, the sound a man makes when his most prized possession is brok

d clumsy. He reached her and fell to his knees, tr

he begged, his voice cracking with a genu

the smoke, coughing weakly, playi

alled out, my

yes was not relief. It was pure, undiluted hatred. He was

orientation. "Mark... what happene

hloe, who was now sobbing hysterically, her leg

e, the words spitting out of his mouth

ped" over a piece of fallen drywall, c

" I gasped. "M

a violent, dismissive push that sent me sprawling. He didn't even look to see if I was hurt. He

ough the smoke, illuminating the scene perfectly: the heroic husband ignoring his dazed wife