A New BeginningI had been married to James Tennant for seven years. In that time, he had already kept twenty-nine mistresses, like pretty little canaries in gilded cages.
Now, I saw the thirtieth one in our bedroom, young and draped in nothing but a bath towel, lounging across our bed.
I turned to him and asked coldly, “Can’t get enough out there, huh? Did you really have to bring her home?”
The girl deliberately tugged her towel lower, her pale skin showing as she sneered, “Mr. Tennant says you’re like a dead corpse in bed! He wanted me to teach you how to please a man.”
That night, I was forced to watch their little performance right in front of me.
The next morning, James was furious at my indifference, resenting me for not reacting. However, he seemed to forget that our marriage was nothing but a contract, and in just one week, that contract would expire.