MasukI lean in just a fraction of an inch. "I want you to sign the divorce papers, Deckard. That is the only thing I want from you." He lets out a sudden dry and hysterical laugh, shaking his head against the iron bars. "The divorce? You think I’m just going to hand Sydney over to your family on a silve
"Take it easy Owen, before your bones fall apart right here on the concrete," I state smoothly, not even turning my head away from the tinted windows of my car. Owen lets out a snort, limping very noticeably as his polished shoes crunch against the pavement. He places a hand firmly against his heav
I sprint to the corridor wall, aggressively hitting the emergency nurse call button. Within thirty seconds, the primary attending doctor charges into the room, quickly carrying out a full neurological and physical examination. The doctor steps back, smiling warmly at me as he clicks his pen shut.
"You should go to Owen," Tobias tells me as he turns away from the interrogation monitor, pulling his hands out of his trench coat pockets, looking down at me. I nod, a deep breath leaving my lungs. "That's what I was about to do." I step forward, throwing my arms around his neck and hugging him t
The detective exchanges a cold look with his partner. He narrows his eyes, his voice dropping lower. "So you’re claiming it was strictly financial assistance? Just basic maneuvering?" "Obviously!" She snaps haughtily. "He's an asshole, but I won't kill him." "Okay, let's see," the detective coun
I throw my head back and let out a loud, echoing laugh of disbelief. Caroline?! The pristine woman who was just sitting in the hospital waiting room complaining about me crying too loud and embarrassing her? It has to be a sick, twisted joke that a biological sister would actively want her own
Today makes it three years since I got married to Deckard Newton, and I have only one goal in mind. Seduce him till he can't resist me. You see, in our years of marriage, Deckard and I have never been intimate. It’s not like he doesn’t want me. I mean, I’ve caught him jerking off to my pictures on
"You're in the city, but you never come to see me? You're like a ghost. A handsome and intelligent ghost, my son is." Mother’s voice rings out before I even reach the parlor. She’s sitting in her favorite wingback chair, looking as calm as she always does, though the grief lines from crying over my
"What?" "I want a divorce," I repeat. Deckard remains frozen, staring at me as if I’ve suddenly started speaking a foreign language. His eyes search my face, looking for the crack, the moment where I’ll break into a sob and tell him I didn't mean it. Then, he chuckles. "Oh, don't be dramatic, no
Divorce. That's the only way forward, isn't it? I'm still standing and staring mute at the photo album in my hands. It doesn't make sense. Deckard? Georgia? How...? When? But even as I turn it over in my mind, I know deep down that it all makes sense. Yes, Deckard cared for me, but can I confide







