Novels by Acedomvile

~CLAIRE'S POV~{ONE YEAR LATER}The woman staring back at me from the floor-to-ceiling mirror looked like she had walked straight out of a "revenge glow-up" Pinterest board, and honestly? I was living for it.I adjusted the lapels of my custom-tailored black Armani suit—yes, I was one of those people now who could casually drop designer names. The fabric felt like butter against my skin, and the price tag? Let's just say my old self would have fainted, but my new self had simply handed over Alexander's black card with a smile.Gone were the desperate puppy-dog eyes that Richard used to call "needy" (what a charmer, right?). In their place was a look of amused confidence, perfectly framed by makeup that actually enhanced my features instead of trying to hide them because some man thought they were "distracting."My chestnut hair, once long enough to sit on because Richard preferred it that way, now fell in a chic bob that screamed "I make my own decisions, thank you very much." Even

~CLAIRE'S POV~The next few days passed in a blur of nurses, medications, and discharge paperwork. I signed forms with my maiden name, Winfred, and each time it felt like signing away another piece of the woman I used to be. Claire Blackwood was dead. She had died in that hospital room when Richard told me I disgusted him.What was left was someone I didn't recognize yet.The nurse who wheeled me out to the taxi was kind, talking about the weather and how I should take it easy for the next few weeks. I nodded and smiled, but inside I felt nothing. Empty. Like someone had scooped out everything that used to matter and left behind a hollow shell."Where to?" the taxi driver asked.I gave him my parents' address. It was the only place I could think of to go. Richard had made it clear I was not welcome in our house anymore. Not that I wanted to be there anyway, not after what I had seen in our bedroom.My childhood home looked smaller than I remembered. The white paint was peeling arou

~CLAIRE’S POV~The pen felt like it weighed a thousand pounds in my hand.I stared at my signature on the divorce papers, Claire Winfred, my maiden name looking strange and unknown after three years of being a Blackwood. The ink was still wet, but already it felt like I had signed away more than just my marriage. I had signed away my entire identity.I was reaching for the call button to summon a nurse when the door opened again.Richard stepped back into the room, and for one foolish moment, my heart leaped. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he had realized what a mistake he was making. Maybe…."You signed them." His voice was flat as he looked at the papers on my bedside table."Yes." The word came out as barely a whisper.He moved closer to the bed, and I smelled his cologne, the same expensive scent I bought him for Christmas last year. It was the same scent that used to make me feel safe and loved when he held me close.Now it just made me feel sick."Good," he said, gatheri

~CLAIRE POV~The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the beeping.Steady, rhythmic, electronic. Like a metronome keeping time with my heartbeat. The second thing I noticed was the smell….that sharp, clean scent of disinfectant that could only mean one place.Hospital.I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in my side made me gasp and fall back against the pillows. My mouth felt like cotton, and there were tubes in my arm connected to bags of clear liquid hanging from a metal pole.What happened? How did I get here?Then it all came rushing back like a tidal wave.Monica on top of Richard. Our bed. The betrayal. The way Richard looked at me like I was nothing. The room spinning, my knees hitting the floor, darkness swallowing me whole.I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping it had all been a nightmare. But when I opened them again, I was still in this sterile white room with machines beeping around me and an IV drip in my arm."You're awake."I turned my head toward the voice, and my heart

THE DISCOVERY~CLAIRE’S POV~I should have known something was wrong when I came home to silence.Richard's car was in the driveway next to Monica's little red BMW, but the house felt empty. Too quiet. Even the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed to tick softer than usual as if it knew what I was about to find and did not want to be the one to announce it."Richard?" I called out, setting my purse on the marble table by the front door. "Monica?"My best friend had texted me an hour ago, saying she had stopped by to drop off the wedding photos from her cousin's ceremony last weekend. Monica was always doing thoughtful things like that, bringing over fresh cookies, helping me pick out new curtains, and making sure I never felt lonely when Richard worked late.Which was most nights lately.I kicked off my heels and padded through the corridor in my stockings. The living room was empty, but I could hear something from upstairs. A soft thudding sound, rhythmic and steady.Maybe they