All Chapters of The Governor’s regret, his broken wife burned it all: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

She woke up that morning not knowing how the day would end, not knowing she would find herself walking into a hospital to see someone she technically had no reason to know, let alone care about. The day had started like any other day she forced herself through, a body moving forward while her mind lagged behind, heavy with thoughts she didn’t want to name, and when the idea crossed her mind again that she should go see Theo’s mother, it felt necessary in the way hunger feels necessaryEvelyn didn’t want cameras. She didn’t want aides whispering about optics or favors or timing. She didn’t even tell anyone where she was going, only asked the driver to take her to the hospital and left it at that, her tone flat enough to shut down questions before they could form. This wasn’t something she wanted documented or remembered publicly. This was something she needed to do because she’d seen what the weight of worry was doing to Theo, the way he carried it around like an extra limb he couldn’t

Evelyn’s POV The cameras were already on by the time we stepped into the mall, red lights blinking softly, men walking backward in front of us, women pretending not to stare while staring anyway, and my friends slipping into that excited brightness they always wore when the crew showed up,“This place never gets old,” Lila said, adjusting her sunglasses even though we were indoors. “I swear, every time I come here with you, I forget normal life exists.”She laughed and the others followed, the sound bouncing around us, and I smiled because smiling kept things smooth and smooth kept people from asking questions I didn’t have the energy to answer.We moved from store to store without urgency, racks pulled apart, fabrics lifted and pressed against me, hands tugging at my arms, my waist, my shoulders, deciding for me what suited the wife of a man running for office. Every suggestion came with his name attached to it, every opinion tied back to what would look good beside him, what would

Evelyn’s POV I didn’t sleep. I tried. Got into bed, pulled the covers up, closed my eyes, waited for my brain to shut down after a day that nearly ended with a blade in my chest. But my body wouldn’t cooperate. Every time I started to drift, I saw his face again. At some point I just gave up. I slipped out of bed. Alfred was out cold, snoring with one arm flung over his face. The house was dark and quiet in that specific way it gets after midnight. I went downstairs in bare feet and found myself drifting toward the library without really deciding to go there. The door was already open. I flipped on the small desk lamp instead of the overhead lights. The room materialized in pieces. Shelves floor to ceiling, packed with books Alfred bought by the yard because someone told him it looked distinguished. Most of them he’d never opened. A few were mine. Legal texts. Case studies. Biographies of lawyers who’d actually mattered. I used to matter. I moved along the shelves, ru

Evelyn I woke up to voices downstairs and the sound of equipment being moved around. The crew. I’d forgotten they were coming early today. Some charity event Alfred had scheduled weeks ago, another performance in the endless parade of performances. I stayed in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle into my bones before I’d even stood up. The bathroom mirror showed a woman who looked fine. Hair that could be fixed. Eyes that could be lined. A face that could smile on command. I turned on the shower and let the water run hot enough to hurt. By the time I came downstairs, the living room had been transformed into a staging area. Cameras, lights, sound equipment scattered across the furniture. Two crew members adjusted angles while another tested audio levels. Alfred stood near the window, already dressed, phone pressed to his ear, nodding at whatever was being said on the other end. He looked at me when I entered, gestured toward the

Clara’s birthday fell on a Saturday. I’d forgotten about it until she reminded me three days before, standing in the kitchen with her arms crossed, looking at me the way she did when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. “You didn’t forget, right?” “Of course not,” I lied. “Because last year you forgot.” “I didn’t forget last year. I was just late.” “You were four hours late.” I set down my coffee. “I’ll be there this year. I promise.” She studied me, then nodded and left. I spent the next three days planning a party I didn’t have the energy for. Ordered a cake. Hired a caterer. Sent invitations to her friends and a few family members who still pretended to care. Alfred handled the guest list for his side, adding donors and campaign staff because everything had to be an opportunity. By Saturday morning, the house was full of balloons and streamers and people I didn’t want to talk to. Clara seemed happy, though. That was something. I stood near the kitchen, wat