The pain swallowed me whole, like it meant to consume every last part of me.
I crammed the paper into my mouth and forced it down, like swallowing every poisoned thing loving him had ever grown inside me.
Tears kept spilling, but when the call connected my voice came out without a single tremor. "I'll give you what you want. You help me with one thing. Can you do that?"
The person on the other end agreed without hesitation.
William was already at the dining table eating breakfast when I walked back into the villa.
He looked up at me in the doorway, frowned slightly, rose, and came over to tuck my hair back from my face—proprietary, automatic, the way he'd done it for decades. "What happened? Where were you last night? You didn't answer your phone. I was worried about you, Junie." He cupped my face in both hands, gentle as ever, warm as ever. "Something going on? Need me to help? Hm? We don't keep secrets from each other, Junie."
But this face—the same face I'd looked at for all those years—now all it gave me was nausea. I tilted my head and pulled his hands off me.
The rejection displeased him, though he didn't let it show much.