My Husband's Treacherous Game

caring for my "paralyzed" mother-in-law to pay for

ie was the day I also discovered he' d tr

their lies, they had my leg broken and sent me for electroshoc

er, I overheard him say his bigg

ast of my love fin

n his pathetic pleas for forgivenes

to safety, sacr

, looking at me with hope in his eyes

pte

Fulle

alysis, all to pay for a mistake my husband never let me forget. The day I found out it wa

, had "accidentally" spilled something on her clothes. This time, it was a thick, syrupy blackcurrant juice, staining the cream-colored blouse a

Another piece of my san

ensive material. It mirrored the hole Dollye had been

! Are yo

he hum of the dryer. It always sounded so robust fo

blouse clutched in my hand. Dollye was parked in her state-of-the-art wheelch

You' re so clumsy. I don' t know what my son ever saw in you. A pre

Arguing was like throwing stones into a black ho

rk against the pale leather. I would have to go out and buy her

thrown away because of your carelessness. You owe me, An

rned to go, to clean up the mess, to scrub the stai

forward, blocking my path. The rubber wheels

ping. I need a massage. Use the arnica oil,

ifeless, felt firm and muscular beneath my hands. Two years of this. Two years of feedi

views and the scent of blueprints and fresh coffee. I used to design buildings that touched the sky. N

ood up, my back aching. "Is

playing on her lips. "No. You can go.

, my sanctuary. I sank onto the wicker chair and pulled

her blouse. Sai

ssage, my th

ming home

age sat there, delivered but unread. A familiar, hollow ache settled

ning, and Holden hated it when I complained. He always sai

ited edition. It was beyond repair. But maybe... maybe I could salvage the lace trim. It was my lat

gainst hope they could perform a miracle. It was a flimsy excuse to get out of the house, to breath

was an automated notification from the courthouse. My heart did a strange

reminder. Your legal separation agreement will be finalized and converted t

re my eyes. Legal s

itched. It

few months ago, sliding a stack of papers across the ki

' d said, his voice weary. "Her lawyers want everything in order

sumed with Dollye' s schedule, with the constant, grinding fatigue,

but her voice was a distant buzz. People in lin

? Are yo

es," I heard myself say, the word a d

to the blinding midday sun. The heat felt like a physical blow, but I was cold. A deep

again. A messa

day. What' s

nking words. He had no idea I knew. Or maybe

ergy to form a question, to voice the

nroom my only destination. I need

into the drive

here. And so was Casey Bush

ovements silent. I could hear their

ss-paned doors, I saw Dollye. She was standing. Standing, and la

for a daughter-in-law, was clapping her hands. "Oh, Dollye, you' re a natural!

in his hand, a small, pained smile on his face. He watched his mother, a wo

s a lie. All of it. The paralysis, the pain, the helplessness. A

sweetness as she moved to stand beside Holden, her hand possessively on his arm. "Ansl

She sat back down in her wheelchair, a practiced, fluid motion. "But she served her purpose. T

n her, Dollye. She did what she had to. And now, she' ll be out of the pi

just took a long swallow of his whiskey, his eyes

a triumphant purr, "you can move in, Ca

. The unpaid nurse, the unloved

d the image of the three of them, a happy little c

my mouth to stifle a sob. I stumbled up the s

led through my contacts, past Holden, past Bethany, my best friend, to

before a crisp, profe

ull

bro

broken whisper. "

ilence. Then, his voice, softer now, but

choked out, the words tearing from my

ghter continued, oblivious. For two years, I

ver been part of their family to