Loneliness settled over Sabrina like a shroud of horrors. All their years Benedict had never, ever let her inside. She had been a picture to stand alongside him, a wife in title only, as he had continued to live out his chilly, distant life. The man standing before her now, the man who wouldn't even permit her to be his equal, his wife, wasn't the husband she'd wed.
She had worked so hard to make him know she was there, for her to make him believe that she was more than an inside woman for his family; and it was all in vain.
Tears came and teared up under the pressure of her eyelids that began to close and again, but she pressed the moisture back. She shouldn't let him see her fall. She wouldn't let that pleasure come to his head.
"You don't need me," she said softly, her voice shaking
