The Mistress
Before the doors closed, he caught my gaze one last time.
“Remember who you are, Livy,” he said. “The ‘Perfect Wife’ is the mask. The ‘Warrior’ is the truth. Don’t let the mask become the skin.”
I nodded, the burner phone heavy in my pocket—a piece of the “Silent Sanctuary” that I was taking with me into the war.
The elevator descended, and as the rusted doors opened to the reality of the alley, I straightened my spine. I took off the wig, tucked the black trench coat into a trash bin, and walked back toward the department store.