His Betrayal Funded My Revenge

t tonight, publishing that exposé on the city's corrupt shipping syndicates ha

ater and running down her wrist in thin pink rivers. Her ribs screamed with every breath.

ots splashed t

four. She didn'

The alley narrowed ahead, brick walls pressing close, fire escapes tangled overhead. No exit. On

led for

button. The cold blue glow illuminated her shaking hands. She hunched over i

g," a voice called.

. She shoved the phone in

irst hit when they cornered her outside the warehouse, before she'd screamed and clawed and run

tench of rotting food and chemical waste made her gag. She presse

ainwater dripped from her hair onto

app. Scrolled to the

ti

husb

made her Abigail Shepard on paper, ev

call button and

eternity. The footsteps stopped at the mouth of her hiding

rings.

g. A boot kicked a loose can, sendi

ked. Abigail'

phone. Wh

voice of someone who answered his p

agues in the newsroom were currently in Europe, chasing after Attilio and Candace, documenting their every glamorous move. The irony tasted more bitter than the

again, impatient now

ak. Her lips moved,

oice was muffled now, away from the receiver, speaking to him. "It's just an unsaved num

ed to save her phone number. To him, she wasn't a wife. She wasn't even a name in his contacts. She was

lio's voice, said somethin

to the receiver, bright and polite. "Whoever this is, Attilio says he'll call y

ne wen

er face. Paris. He was in Paris. Not Frankfurt. With her. Candace had

er chest and squeezed her eyes shut. A tear escaped, hot a

r to her le

ike a gunshot. Abigail's body jerked, her free hand flying to her mouth to trap the scr

n there?" one

the oth

econds. M

The police would take too long. The questions would take longer. She

he name. Pr

ang

line, background noise of the newsroom behind

n. She pressed harder against the dumpster, feeling the rust flake against her coa

rd him moving, shouting something at someone in

use." She heard boots approaching

it in right now. Stay on the

She could see the toe of a steel-toed work boot, black with yellow

beside her. Jagged, thick, probably from a beer bottle.

oot s

sto

blue lights swept across the alley mouth,

voice mutt

's m

the far end of the alley. A metal gate clanged. Then si

armless now. Her legs gave out. She slid down the dumpster until she was sitting in

. She'd dropped the phone. "Abby, talk to

it, her finger

re they gone?

n in her mouth. She wasn't

'm twenty minutes out. Don't

ain was slowing, or maybe she

as Phineas moved somewhere quieter

nt. Everyone always

word came out hollow, s

ilent. Then,

answe

er this time. "Abby. T

"He was in Paris. Not

s voice cracked with fur

f up, one hand pressed against the du

ke you. At least

, cutting through the fog. "No r

she disappeared three years ago and became someone else, someone whose name

y minutes. Stay in the alley. I'll bring

ving, limping toward the street, away from the patro

y, w

ded th

gail pressed herself into the shadow of a fire escape until

hed in her pocket, her coat collar pulled high to hide the blood on her neck. Every step sent fresh li

ed her. The kid behind the counter lo

om?" sh

ordless, to t

the lottery tickets and the cigarettes locked behind glass. The bathroom door

ng back at her

lower lip was split, crusted with dried blood. Her left eye was beginning to close, the skin arou

woman who had been used and disc

d again, until the water ran pink and then clear. She scrubbed at her skin with brown

buzzed in

ing Phineas, expecting mo

tilio. A singl

a success. Going into m

. He was at JFK. With her. And he was texting his wife a pre-packag

e. Long enough for the screen to dim and

r button. Held it down. S

om trash can, on top of the bloody pa

sound, plastic

hrough her wet hair, arranging it to cover the worst

counter where the kid still stared, out i

ome was a penthouse on the Upper East Side with a view of

entually return, smelling of Candace's

Manhattan, toward the bridg

steady. Her f

not lo