Sandra
I sit with my legs crossed on the cream sofa, posture perfect, smile soft, hands folded neatly in my lap. The living room smells like expensive leather and whiskey.
Mike stands by the window, tablet in hand, scrolling with a deep frown that tells me everything before he even opens his mouth.
“She’s been summoned to court,” he says flatly, eyes never leaving the screen. “Forty eight hours.”
My heart gives a small jump, but my face stays calm. Curious. Concerned. The obedient wife.
“I told you those Bennett fools wouldn’t let this go,” he continued. “You should have handled Molly better.”
“Honey, please. She’s stubborn. You know that. I tried to reason with her.”
He shrugs angrily. “You didn’t try hard enough!”
Of course. It is always my fault.
Paul lounges on the armchair
