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Chapter 86 — The Other Half

Penulis: Spli_vena
last update Tanggal publikasi: 2026-07-16 01:23:11

Anita pov

The boat was Helen’s idea, though by the time it actually happened it had become entirely its own thing…bigger than either of us had planned, strung with lights along both decks and a small band setting up near the stern while caterers moved through with trays before the first guest had even arrived.

Sorrel had gone global that week.

Truly global.

Three new markets confirmed inside four days.

A licensing conversation with a house I’d once only read about in magazines.

Numbers that st
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  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 155 — Sentencing Anita

    Whitfield called on Monday morning, while I was still unpacking the small bag from ourweekend away, sand somehow still finding its way out of every pocket.“Sentencing’s been scheduled,” he said, no greeting, straight to the point as always. “Threeweeks from today. Given the confession, given the sheer scope of the charges, I don’texpect a lengthy trial, if there’s a trial at all in the traditional sense. His lawyer’s alreadysignaled he’ll enter a formal guilty plea.”“How long,” I asked. “If you had to guess.”“I don’t like guessing on sentencing, in case I’m wrong and you build your expectationsaround a number that doesn’t hold.” Whitfield’s voice had gone careful. “What I can tell youis that between the orchestrated accident, the ordered killing, the sustained poisoning of hisown mother, and the attempted abduction of a minor, the prosecution is asking for asentence that would keep him incarcerated for the remainder of his natural life.”I sat down slowly on the edge of the

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 154 — Sandcastles Anita

    Manny fell asleep against the car window twenty minutes into the drive, Sir Hops wedgedunder one arm, his small mouth open slightly, completely, blissfully unaware of how carefullyboth Kelvin and I had planned this weekend around the possibility of it going wrong.“He’s out cold,” Kelvin said quietly, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.“Good sign or bad sign.”“I think just a sign that seven-year-olds sleep in cars. Nothing more complicated than that.”I let myself believe him, mostly, and watched the coastline slowly begin to appear throughthe window, green fields giving way to something sandier, the horizon opening up in a waythat made my chest tighten before I’d fully decided why.“You okay,” Kelvin asked, catching my expression.“Coastlines are complicated for me now.”“We don’t have to do this. There are other places.”“No.” I made myself say it firmly, testing the certainty of it as I spoke. “I want this specifickind of complicated to stop meaning only one thing. I wan

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 153 — An Ordinary Tuesday Kelvin

    Manny had gone to bed an hour ago, worn out from a full day at the small primary school Anita had finally enrolled him in, his first week of something that resembled an ordinary childhood in longer than any of us wanted to count.I found Anita in the studio’s small kitchen, a cup of tea going cold in front of her, a sketchbook open to a page she wasn’t actually looking at.“You’re not drawing,” I said, settling into the chair across from her.“I’m thinking about drawing. That counts for something.”“Does it.”“It counts for something.” She smiled, small and tired in the good way, the kind of tired that came from a genuinely full day rather than the exhaustion we’d both been carrying for months. “He asked his teacher today if rabbits could come to school for show and tell. Apparently Sir Hops has a lot to offer the class.”I laughed, and reached across the table for her hand.“How was the rest of it. Actually.”“Good. Genuinely good.” She turned her hand over in mine, tracing the lines

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 152 — The Hearing Anita

    The family court building looked nothing like the police station or the room behind the one-way glass, warmer somehow, carpeted, a children’s play corner visible through one open door as we passed it on the way to the assigned courtroom.Marcus walked beside me, carrying a folder considerably thinner than the one that had once held Richard Hargrove’s confession, though what it lacked in bulk it made up for in what it represented.“This should be straightforward,” he said quietly. “Given the confession, given the kidnapping attempt, given everything already on record. The judge has all of it. This is largely a formality at this point, confirming what’s already true on paper.”“Largely,” I repeated.“There’s no such thing as guaranteed, in family court or anywhere else. But I’ve seen cases with a tenth of the evidence you have, and those families still walked out with what they needed.” Marcus glanced at me. “You’re not walking into this blind, or unsupported, or facing a version of Don

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 151 — One Word at a Time Anita

    The specialist Whitfield had recommended came to the studio twice a week now, a gentle, soft-spoken man named Dr. Osei who never once pushed Manny toward anything, simply sat with him, patient, offering small activities that asked nothing of him beyond his own willingness to participate.I watched through the doorway as he arrived for the fourth session, Manny already at the small table Ruth had set up in the corner, a set of building blocks laid out between them.“Good morning,” Dr. Osei said, settling into the chair across from him. “I brought something new today, if you’d like to see it.”Manny looked up. Didn’t speak. But he nodded, small and careful, and I felt something in my chest ease at even that much engagement.I stayed in the doorway rather than crossing into the room, giving them the privacy the sessions required, and watched Dr. Osei lay out a set of small painted figures alongside the blocks, a family of them, a mother, a father, a child, animals arranged loosely around

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 150 — What the Hand Remembers Margaret

    The physical therapist came three times a week now, a patient young woman named Elise who never once treated the work as anything less than serious, even on the days Margaret’s own body refused to cooperate with any of it.“Small movements today,” Elise said, helping Margaret’s fingers curl slowly around a soft rubber ball, guiding the motion with her own hand layered over Margaret’s. “You’re stronger than you were last week. I want you to feel that, not just hear me say it.”Margaret focused on the ball, on the deliberate effort of closing her own fingers around it without Elise’s help, and felt something that might have been triumph arrive somewhere behind her sternum when her grip actually held for three full seconds before giving out.“There,” Elise said, smiling. “That’s real progress. That’s not nothing.”They worked through the sequence again, and again, Elise counting quietly under her breath, marking each small success out loud so Margaret would have something concrete to hol

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 5-Still

    One message.A number I did not recognise.No words.Just a photograph.I sat on the edge of the bed in the dark and looked at it.Donald. Lying back against a woman I had never seen before. His head on her chest. Her hand resting in his hair like it belonged there. His face completely open in a wa

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 3-The routine

    The coffee machine made its noise at six forty-seven.I didn’t move to pour until it finished. I stood at the counter with my hands wrapped around nothing and listened to it run. That sound. The only sound in the whole house. The specific quiet that exists when you are the only one awake and have n

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 2-The silence after

    Donald did not say a word on the way home. Not one. Not when I fell into step beside him as the evening wound down. Not when we collected our coats and walked out into the cool Velmoor night. Not when he opened the car door for me with the quiet efficiency of a man performing a task he stopped t

  • The wife I swore I’d never be    Chapter 4-Professional distance

    His footsteps stopped just inside the kitchen doorway.I had turned the phone over by then. Both hands on the counter. Face arranged into something that had no name for what was behind it.I did not turn around.I stood there and listened. Donald’s silences were never empty. They were always full o

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