Chapter 1 Stared Blankly

Flora STARED BLANKLY at the glass of red wine in front of her. Her heart hammered in her rib cage. She could feel her chest tightening; an awful tension building between her sternum and stomach.

She was dreaming. She had to be. There was no way this was actually happening.

No.

Fucking.

Way.

Not to her.

"I've been wanting to tell you for so long," Richard almost pleaded. "But I didn't want anything to interfere with your work. That's why I waited until after you made partner."

Did he really think he was justifying this shit?!

Flora cut her eyes at her husband; her wonderful, loving, devoted husband of twelve years. He was playing her. He had to be. His eyes, so dark and velvety brown they looked black, reflected very real regret and pain. His thick, black brows were drawn in concern.

He reached out and took one of her hands in his. "Flora, say something please," he said, kneading her stiff digits.

Flora noticed her stomach moving in and out. It clenched painfully. She snatched her hand away from her husband, jumped to her feet and backed away. No. No. No. She had to stop him; to stop this. It wasn't part of her plan; their plan. "This is a joke, right?" she asked shakily. Her eyes were wild and manic. She smiled. A smile made everything okay. It did. It had to.

Richard stood. His lips were whitish-pink in their pinch; his brows furrowed, deep lines between them. Worry and fear were the smell of his cologne.

Oh god, this was real. Flora wrapped her arms tightly around herself to keep her insides from spilling out. "Please tell me you're joking. You have to be joking. You have to be," she begged. "Please tell me it's not true Richard . Please," she implored.

Richard watched her. He shook his head slowly.

Flora felt the rumbling; the tingling of a sob from the bottom of her feet. It was a full roar by the time it reached her mid-section. She dry retched, sick to her stomach. Hot tears burned a trail down her face, dripping onto her shirt like pellets of a sudden rainstorm.

Richard stepped forward to wrap her in his arms.

"Noooooo!!" Flora howled, her cry a sudden blast of rage.

Richard landed against a wall, the thud making her realize that somehow she had moved him. Was it the sheer force of her fury or had she actually made contact with his body? She couldn't remember.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed.

Richard caught himself on the arm of the couch as he bounced off the wall, trying not to fall onto the large, glass coffee table in front of the leather couch in their living room. "What the hell?!" he snapped, looking back at a wine glass that crashed against the wall where his head had been a second ago.

"How dare you! How dare you fucking do this to me!" Flora thundered, her body trembling from head to toe.

"Flora, wait, let me-"

"I will let you do nothing. Ever again!" she screamed, spit dripping down her chin as she advanced on him.

Richard backed away, the look in her eyes told him this wasn't his Flora.

Backed into the same wall she'd pushed him into seconds ago, Flora brought her hand up and landed a slap to her husband's left cheek, the sharp sound like a gun at the start of a race. She took off – balling her fists up and hitting him as hard she could as fast as she could, as if she was in a race to get in as many punches as she could before some timing device expired.

"Flora stop! Stop! Stop! Stop!" Richard said, grabbing her hands.

He twisted her around, held her hands crossed in front of her, and felt her heaving as she lay back against his chest.

Flora kicked and fought as if her life depended on it.

Richard grunted and steadied himself against the wall, holding his wife until she exhausted herself.

"You did this. Look at what you did to me," Flora sobbed, her body going limp.

"Baby I'm sorry," Richard said, loosening his hold on her. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Against all reason, Flora turned to him and sobbed in the circle of his arms. It had always been where she found comfort whenever things went wrong.

She cried for everything that had been ... and everything that could no longer be.