All Chapters of The Widow’s Game: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

She didn’t shed a single tear because she was sure that someone in the crowd had killed him, and she was going to find out who.The wind tugged at the hem of her black long dress as if it was daring her to move, to flee, to disappear into the line of cars parked in the parking lot. But Genevieve Holloway stood rooted at the graveside of her husband, her gloved hands clasped loosely in front of her.The casket shone under the weak sunlight—polished mahogany, gold-plated handles, expensive and spotless. Just like him. Even in death, Charles Holloway looked perfect. Or rather, the image of him that they presented to the world did.Genevieve had been married to him for three years. Three long, beautiful, ugly, pretentious years. And now here he was—six feet of rot and secrets about to be lowered into the ground with everyone pretending that he was a saint.Mourners surrounded her in solemn, carefully choreographed grief. His business associates, political allies, an aging senator, a sprink

“Ladies,” Celeste said, her voice warm but edged with command. “Meet our newest member. Genevieve Holloway.”Their eyes met hers, assessing her, filled with curiosity and also guarded. The women were dressed in black, none of them was younger than thirty, and older than fifty. They didn’t smile. They studied her like she was a specimen to be used for an experiment.Genevieve straightened her shoulders and gave a polite nod.Celeste gestured for her to an empty seat while she sat at the head of the table.Genevieve sat, keeping her back straight and her expression neutral, though every instinct in her screamed at her to run.“She came,” one of them murmured, voice clipped. “Didn’t think she’d have the spine.”“Shut it, Harper,” another said sharply.Harper. Genevieve’s gaze snapped towards her. Harper was strikingly beautiful. She had shoulder-length auburn hair and eyes that looked like they had seen a hundred betrayals. She sat with her arms crossed.“Is this what we’re letting in no

The message stared back at Genevieve from the screen, each word was like a quiet thunder in her chest.Hello, Mrs. Holloway. Shall we begin?Genevieve reread it twice, then a third time. There was no name. Her first instinct was to call the number, but the line clicked dead before it even rang.She dropped her phone on the table. So this was the start. The beginning that Celeste had promised, and whoever was watching her was probably already close.Sleep didn’t come easy that night. When it did, it was thin, filled with half-formed dreams of fog, fire, and a man she had not yet met.By morning, she checked the message from the unknown number again. It still sat on her screen; there were no new messages from the number.At 9:00 a.m., the doorbell rang.Genevieve walked barefoot in her robe to answer the door. She found a woman standing on her doorstep. She was tall, slender and wrapped in a grey trench coat that was secured neatly at her waist. Her hair was packed into a sleek bun, and

The morning after the gala, Genevieve woke up and spent minutes replaying the way Dominic Rourke’s eyes had cut across the ballroom, catching hers for that single second; she also kept replaying the compliment he had given her.A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Delilah entered, immaculate as always. Her sleek black coat had no wrinkle, and her hair was packed in a perfect chignon. “You made an impression last night,” Delilah said, placing her leather-bound folder on the table. “Though fleeting, it was enough. Dominic noticed you. That is more than the others ever achieved.”Genevieve sat up straighter on her bed, her silk robe falling around her in soft folds. “Noticing isn’t enough, is it? I still have a lot to do.” Delilah’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Proximity is power. You must keep circling him until he lets you in. Luckily, fate or rather, the Club has given you the perfect excuse.” She opened her folder, sliding a document toward Gen

Immediately the door of Dominic Rourke’s office closed behind Genevieve; Benedict, his assistant, stepped in. “That woman is dangerous,” Benedict said carefully. Dominic did not raise up his head from the papers in front of him. His hands moved across the table to pick a file. “Dangerous how?” Dominic asked. Benedict hesitated. “Not in the obvious way. She’s a tool, and you are aware of this.” Dominic finally raised up his head, one eyebrow raised slightly. “You’re worried.” Benedict had been Dominic's assistant since he took over Rourke's Technologies. Their relationship had grown from boss and assistant to friends. He always looked out for him, almost as if he was possessive of him and didn't want anything that screamed danger in the slightest way around him. “I&rsq