LYN

d a single, damning red hair. The other, the wrapper from

ced them on his desk, right next to

f his public glory. It was a perfect, gro

very angle. I didn't know what I would use them for,

lry box and hide it deep within my closet, buried in a larger cont

race of my presence. I even vacuumed the entire room, mak

study door, I felt like

"boring housewife" to perfection. I went to Whole Fo

is favorite bakery to pic

g, unsuspecting wife

evening, whistling,

d with a woman's perfume. It wasn't my Chanel. It was a sickly sweet scent, clinging faintly to his colla

t the gentle smile fixed on my face. "Tough

gesture of affection he hadn't

en leaning in to kiss his cheek

ookie was getting chewed out by the coach, which

g and making interested no

livious that the "good wife" he was praising had just co

thrilling sense of power, the

bathroom to take a shower, leaving h

silver device. A silent, vicious fury surged through my veins, but I crushed it down with ice-cold focu

to pound. Thi

I tried my bir

ersary. I

date of his Stanley Cup debut-the on

unlocked

s messages. The most recent thread

[I

g legs in black stockings, the b

Miss

ing about y

e image to a secret email address I'd created, th

back on the nightstand whe

waist, drying his hair. "What are you doing?

displaying a home decor website. "Just looking at new s

word "sofa," my e

ossed his face. He wa

at color do you think