Ashfo

instead of a lunatic. I didn't want their pity. I didn't want any part of Ethan's world, including its

r and hobbled out, dragging my small, tattered suitcase behind me. This place, with i

he hospital gown, the cast, the grime still on my face. A flicker

salon. My mother-in-law, Victoria Ashford, was hosting her

erfectly made-up face soured. I was a disgr

her voice tight. She shooed her friends out to the ter

bsolute embarrassment. Where has all of Ethan's money gone?

al to get upstairs, gathe

at the mall. Caused all sorts of trouble. And p

Mia's side of the story. An

ell for three years with her snide remarks and impossible sta

, I had never spoken to her wit

ut, grabbing a cup from the tea service on th

ulder and arm, seeping into the thin cotton of the gown. It hit

ound averted their eyes

ately decorated cake on the sideboard. In a flash of pure ma

ragging me toward the table. "This is

ace down, hard,

ng sweetness was suffocating. For a second, I couldn't

ream, any last, lingering shred of senti

p. I stood up, wiping the mess from my face with the

r, at this pathetic, hysterical woman, and I saw h

her, because she didn't try to stop me as I

pristine. Untouched. Everythi

designer clothes and handbags Ethan h

k out the only thing inside that was truly mine: a small, worn wooden box.

d on a pair of old, faded jeans and a plai

envelope. The divorce papers. I had my lawyer draft

nd it

signed the last pag

na V

s, dragging the small suitca

composure and was about to

ffee table and dropped the signed divorce agreem

contact Ethan's," I

heavy front door, and pulle

, leaving the golden cage, and the m