ManyWriters

For six years, I accepted my husband’s "muse". I told myself their connection was purely artistic, the price of being Mrs. Vanderbilt.
When I was bleeding in a hospital bed, Liam sneered over the phone, “Chloe gets pregnant, so now you’re faking an illness for attention? Pathetic.”
He dragged me from that bed to her celebration party. In front of all their friends, he shoved me. Hard.
I felt the life I fought so hard for, our child he never knew existed, drain out of me on that cold rooftop floor.
In that moment, the woman who loved him died, too.
Now, he sends flowers, begging for the wife he destroyed to come home. He doesn't understand. This isn't about a broken heart.
He has no idea he just armed his most dangerous enemy.

Fractured Vows

Faced with Liam’s aggressive denial, I was beyond the point of arguing. He would never believe he had done anything wrong.


“I can print a hundred copies of that agreement in a minute. Avoiding this won’t help.”


In a surge of anger, he shot up from his chair. The force sent it crashing to the floor. Then, like a caged animal, he paced back and forth, trying to regain his composure.


“Honey, if this really bothers you, I can write a guarantee. Or a will. I can promise I won’t acknowledge Chloe’s child, or let them inherit any of my assets. That should make you feel better, right?”


I sighed, a deep, weary sound. Why couldn’t he understand? Money and assets could be defined in a legal document. Feelings could not be dismissed so easily.


How would it feel to watch that child grow up? To see his features mirrored in their face? Blood is thicker than water. How could he possibly think it wouldn’t affect me?


Chapter 6