Wendy
One year.
The number had lodged itself somewhere deep inside my chest over the last forty-eight hours, ticking steadily like a countdown I couldn’t escape.
One year until the end of my marriage.
One year until Reed Wyatt let me go.
Ever since that morning in the master suite, the estate had fallen into a strange, unbearable silence. Reed had kept every promise he made with terrifying precision. I had complete freedom now. No schedules approved by security. No carefully controlled outings. No subtle restrictions disguised as concern.
The car was always available.
The gates opened whenever I wanted them to.
And Reed himself had practically disappeared.
We still occupied the same enormous house, but it felt like living beside a ghost. I caught glimpses of him only in fragments
