His Wife, Her Lover, Their Daughter

a second-degree burn on my arm and told me I needed to stay for observation

calls, no texts. Not from Angela. Not from

when I saw them. Giovanni was in a private room at the end of the hal

nd, the size of a quarter. He wa

r voice full of concern, applying a special

ravely, wincing for effect. "I'm

u're so brave, Uncle Gio. Not like my

d it almost made me laugh. I had a serious burn that required medical a

-stress." It was a command performance. I knew it was about maintaining the public image o

a white swimsuit, lay by the pool, talking on her phone. Chaney was splashing i

umbrella, nursing a glass of iced

strolled over, a towel

, his tone dripping with false

e here,"

ressure. This campaign is everything to her." He sighed, as if sharing a heavy burden. "She told me once, back when we firs

they were a carefully crafted insult. He was telling

tinued, smiling. "And you haven't. You've been t

stomach. He was enjoying this, peeling back the la

to the edge of the pool and paused, looking back at

that. I'd almost drowned as a kid, a fact I

umbled backward, crashing into my table. The momentum sent my chair

l the old terror. Water filled my nose and mouth. My lungs burned. I flai

absolute, seized

saw figures on the edge of t

h my go

went straight for Giovanni, who was theatri

kay," he gasped,

head above water for a second, gu

k of fury. "Alex, what the hell are you

ng at me. "You pushed him! I saw yo

Chaney stood in his way, her small body rigi

vy, my struggles weaker. My last coherent thought was of them-my

ing no