From Heartbroken to Untouchable
I've been married to Elliot Graves, the mafia drug lord in NYC, for the past eight years.
But today—on our wedding anniversary—I received a photo of him with my best friend, Lila, celebrating as if they were the ones married. And in her arms was my son, Owen.
I stared at the image, then typed out two words in reply.
“How perfect.”
Half a hour later, Elliot stormed through the front door. His voice thundered through the hallway.
“Why do you always have to be so bitchy to Lila?”
Owen, my own little boy, shoved at my leg and glared. “Bad Momma,” he said. “I wish Miss Lila was my real mommy.”
I didn’t flinch.
I simply walked over to the drawer, pulled out the crisp stack of papers I’d long prepared, and dropped them on the table with a quiet finality.
“Alright,” I said, my voice calm. “It’s all my fault. Now, can I go?”