Unraveling A Twisted Marriage
eive a child," the doctor'
ly built, shattered
nt; it was the direct consequence of a fa
me after I confronted him about plagiarizing my game pro
d on magazine covers for "their" new gaming dynasty, I was
, Brodie brazenly moving in, wearing my clo
s release, branding me an unstable, jealous plagi
the ironclad prenuptial agreement: my parents, years ago, had signed over t
y existence, was a tra
, I wouldn't just ruin myself; I would d
ith no legal escape, no way to fight a man who contro
dignity, my family's sacrifice, an
hout hope, a desperate, wild thought sparked in the darkness: If
it all down a
pte
words were fl
caused significant internal trauma. I'm sorr
h-pitched ringing, drowning out the rest of his sympathetic speech. A wave of naus
y throat. My body felt like a battlefield, hollowed out
ny procedure?" I asked,
"The scarring is too extensive. Any attempt would be
nce. And the source of this agony wasn't some random acci
nimalist living room. The shouting, the cold fury in his eyes. I had confronted him about
ve, Calista," he'd snarled. Then came the shove. It wasn't hard, but I was off-balance. My feet tangled, and I f
e full weight of his betrayal. I pulled out my pho
ory, on the cover
his protégé, Brodie Potter. They were both b
tter: A New Gaming Dynasty." Her g
The public humiliation, the financial ruin he'd
it. I w
I told myself, the
yer's office was just
e adjusted his glasses. "The assets are tied up in a trust. And the prenuptial agreem
nce shared, the one I had designed. I needed my persona
oreign. Wrong. In the living room, Brodie Potter was directing movers,
ningly sweet expression. "Oh,
eyes locked onto the robe. My home
in his hand. He stopped short when he saw me, his
ice shaking with a rage I didn't know
face was a mask of false concern. "Calista, I'm so sorry ab
t you were sleeping with my husband? Or that y
drained fr
in front of he
. The admission was right there, in his eyes, in the w
ce of my old
y," I said, the words tas