After My Fake Death, My Ex Begged Too Late

Oscar never once asked me. He just assumed—

assumed I'd choked down every disgusting thing they'd done and kept it down like a good girl.

That I'd stand right where he left me, wait for him to finish playing around, and let him waltz back to marry me when he was bored.

But here's what he didn't know:

Once someone was dirty, I was done with them.

A flash of venom and resentment crossed Meryl's eyes, there and gone.

In the next breath, she was pouting, pointing at the crescent-moon necklace around my neck. "Well, if we're all going our separate ways anyway… could I maybe have that necklace you gave Barbara? Just something to remember us by?"

My hand went to my throat on instinct.

I looked at Oscar.

He knew what this necklace meant—our promise, the one thing that was supposed to be ours alone. He'd apprenticed himself to a jeweler and shaped it for me bit by bit with his own hands, and the look in his eyes when he'd clasped it around my neck was still so vivid I could feel his fingers there now. "My little moon. You're mine—I put my mark on you. As long as the moon's still in the sky, the way I love you won't change."

The moon was still in the sky. But the heart behind those words was already gone.

"Barbara, give it to Meryl."

He'd barely said it before something in his own expression flickered, and he added, "Come on, we've got our whole future. It's one necklace. Your husband'll buy you ten more."

I'd expected exactly this. It still felt like a fist closing around my heart.

I lowered my eyes, forcing back the burn behind them, unclasped the necklace and set it on the table. "You guys have fun. I'm heading back."

Oscar's gaze stayed on my back as I turned and walked away.

Something twisted in his chest—sudden, instinctive, wrong.

As if the moment I walked through that door, something between us would break past the point of repair.

He stood up before he even realized it, about to follow, but Meryl caught his arm and pressed herself against him, her voice low and suggestive.

"Oscar, tonight's my celebration party. I've got a little something planned for after. Your favorite. Black lace."

His gaze dropped to the parted collar of her top. His throat moved.

He wavered for a moment, then stepped back and sat down.

It would be fine.

We'd been together for so many years. He was everything I leaned on, everything I believed in. I loved him that much. There was no way I'd actually leave him.

As if that settled it, Oscar pulled Meryl closer and eased back in his seat, perfectly comfortable with himself.

No one saw Meryl toss the crescent-moon necklace into the trash.

Early the next morning, I was still asleep when my door slammed open hard enough to hit the wall.

Before I could even process being startled awake, a rough grip yanked me off the bed.

The instant I looked up,

I was staring straight into the barely contained fury burning across Oscar's face.

"I told you—what I have with Meryl doesn't mean anything. So why the hell would you do this!"

"What, you won't be happy until she's dead?"

I stared at him, wide-eyed, with no idea what he was talking about. Then his phone came flying at me.

On the open screen were explicit photos of Meryl, too degrading to look at.

The critical areas were blurred, but every curve of her body was on full display.

Below the photos, someone had posted her address and phone number.

The headline was vicious: "Ungrateful charity case fucks her sponsor's boyfriend — open for business, come get some."

The comments had already blown past ten thousand, and the sewage just kept rising.

"You can take the girl out of the gutter but you can't take the gutter out of the girl. Poverty didn't limit her imagination and it damn sure didn't keep her legs shut."

"Shameless whore. Gets around like that, pretty sure she'd take anyone."

"Bites the hand that feeds her. Put her down. She's wasting oxygen just breathing."

"On my way. Any brothers want to carpool?"

"…"