CHAPTER 8: Cracks in the Perfect Life
Betty's POV
I waited until he retreated into the bedroom. I tried. I talked about our future but all he did was stare at me like I was a doll.
He turned away, entered the master bed room and locked the door without holding me up in his arms to bed.
He simply left like I did not belong……
I rushed over to the crystal wet bar in the corner of the room. My hands trembled so badly that the glass decanter clinked loudly against the rim of my glass.
I poured a generous splash of vodka and swallowed it down dry. The alcohol burned the back of my throat but it did nothing to warm the freezing panic spreading through my veins.
I could not lose this life. I simply refused.
I looked around the room. The custom Italian furniture. The priceless modern art
