. Chloe stepped out, her face unreadable stone. She walked through the gra

stomach turn. She stripped off the silver gown, letting it pool on the floor like shed skin. She stepped into the marble bathroo

a glass of warm milk, a nightly ritual enforced by her mother-in-law, Eleanor

soil of a potted plant. As the last drops fell, a faint, unfamiliar scent hit her-a strange herbal odor mixed with the creaminess. She

e smell to her recent fatigue, her irregular cycles. A t

of his mother, Eleanor. Instinct took over. Chloe flicked off the bedroom lights, slid into bed, and pulled the cov

de the bed-still, waiting. Eleanor leaned closer, inspecting her "sleeping" form. "Sleep, my poor child," she murmured. The tenderne

ped out of bed, bare feet silent on the plush carpet. She cr

mixture of guilt and impatience. "Mom, do

an unyielding authority. "What else? She's had two years and nothing. The Santan

Chloe like a phys

hat's too much." Elliott's voice wav

pped, her voice droppi

en she is no longer Mrs. Santana, the child will already have the inheritance secured. By th

n hard to keep from screaming. It wasn't just an affair. It was a co

y fractured, now

eel, "we still need the prestige her Beaumont name brin

moment. Finally, he gave a def

sical illness. She slid to the floor, the tears finally coming. They streamed down her face in silence, hot trails on her cold skin. Her eyes, w

firm. She opened a search browser and typed: "best divorce lawyer i

had held the milk. She carefully wrapped it in a plast

loe Beaumont was dead. The woman who stared back was a survivor. A r