MARTHA'S POV
The bruises had faded to ugly yellow-green splotches across my ribs and arms. The split lip had healed, though I could still feel the phantom ache when I touched it. But the rage? The rage had only grown stronger, festering like an infected wound.
The photos were everywhere… paparazzi shots of her walking through the city with that insufferable confidence, entertainment news coverage of her leaving the mall, candid images of her at some outing with Callie.
And in almost every recent photo, there he was. Braham Gothan. And sometimes, if the paparazzi got lucky, that boy. Lionel.
My chest tightened every time I saw them together. The perfect little family. The happy ending she didn't deserve.
The happy ending I unknowingly created for her.
I clicked on another article. "M
