What Was Buried That Night
I was in San Aria Bay with my mom, enjoying a quiet, sunlit getaway, when my phone suddenly lit up with a string of messages from my husband's ever-arrogant secretary.
She sent a photo.
The woman in it had been stripped naked, her body covered in blood, the sight almost unbearable.
A voice message followed, her tone dripping with disdain.
"Jeannie, do people like you always take advantage of others like this?
"Mr. Smith just bought this house, and you already had your mother move in for free? As his chief secretary, it's my responsibility to remove anyone living off him."