His Wicked Game (Beautiful Lies Romantic Suspense Series Book 2)
Page 21
The girl from the gallery.
Anouk swallowed back the lump in her throat. What the hell was this? She unfolded the piece of paper and read the single sentence.
How well do you really know your ‘husband’?
Anouk dropped the letter and the photos, and took a step back from the table. For a moment she thought she might be about to have a full-blown panic attack, and closed her eyes, drawing in deep lungfuls of oxygen. After a moment, she bent double, trying not to let the pain inside overwhelm her. What the fuck is this? A joke?
Anouk steeled herself and picked the photographs up again. “Okay. Okay.” Think this through rationally. The girl in the gallery. This woman with her arms around Anouk’s beloved Shawn. Gazing up at him, as he, in turn, kissed her lips. Anouk traced the image of her husband’s face, then brought the photo closer to her eyes. A smudge? No, it was a bruise on Shawn’s forehead. He’d slipped on some ice a year ago, and smacked his head on the sidewalk. She’d made him go to the emergency room and get it checked out, scared it would lead to a brain bleed, the wound deep and raw. It had taken weeks to heal. They’d joked about it. Just last year. Twelve months. This photograph was only a year old.
She looked back at the image of the children. Their dark auburn curls, their large, warm, brown eyes. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” Her legs gave way, and she sank to the floor, the sobs coming silently, but violent, nevertheless. There could be no doubt who those gorgeous children’s father was. They were the image of him.
It was there that Shawn found her, hours later, still curled up on the floor, the evidence of his other wife next to her, and when she looked into his eyes, she didn’t even need him to say it, and to his credit, he couldn’t even begin to deny it. She knew it was all true.
Her whole marriage had been a lie.
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