A Wife's Bitter Reckoning

edges. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and the chattering vo

She stared at her reflection in the ornate mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes haunted. This wasn't

r throat. The pain in her chest was a physical weight, a crushing pressure t

m the adjoining sitting room, a room rarely used

pped. She kne

could see them clearly. Bennett had Aria pressed against a bookshelf, hi

. "Bennett," she breathed, her hands tan

"I want to show you off." He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with a lust Kelsey hadn't seen directed at her in years. "With Kel

epest fear. She wasn't just being replaced; she was being devalued, her

red, his lips tracing her jawline. "And I'll bu

purred, her head tilt

to the powder room, her heart hammering against her ribs. She watched them leave, his arm poss

hurting her, of a passion that might lead to a pregnancy that could kill her. It was a lie. He wasn't afraid of passion. He just didn't feel it for her.

e was the one thing Kelsey couldn't be: young, unburdened, and, in his mind, fertile. A

. She somehow managed to compose herself, to walk back out into the gl

ks. A small, dark mark, a love bite, was visible just above

shock, made her way over. She looked

haky. "The champagne... it's a bit too strong fo

tress, fresh from a secret tryst with her hu

ght, furious knot. Her hand, the o

en, di

ay of champagne flutes, a centerpiece of the party. The tower wobbled precariously. For a horrifying second, it seeme

of glass rained down on her, slicing into her arms and shoulders. One large piece struck her forehead, and a w

was running, his face a mask of terror. For a fleetin

an right

was otherwise unharmed. He pulled her into his arms, shi

hurt? The baby!" he cried, his ha

wn at her once, his eyes cold and annoyed, as if she were merely an inconvenience, a mess to be cleaned

at the wreckage of the champagne tower, a perfect metaphor for her shattered life. The pain from her

walked out of the party, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the pristin

mergency room, the same one she

asked, her eyes full of professional pity as

voice a hollow whisper

o the same hospital, to a private room down the hall. He was fussing over her,

tent tear. "Don't you worry about a thing," he murmured, his voic

r. The nurses on the floor were whispering, commenting on

e saw him as he truly was now: a man who didn't just want a replacement, he

om, Kelsey knew she had to make it of