Abigail leaned back against the couch, her fingers drumming against the armrest.
Each tap was sharp, deliberate, like the ticking of a clock.
Her lips moved before her voice followed, as though she were savoring each word.
"They all think he's untouchable now… Grand Lisa, the great Thompson family, even that fragile little doll he parades around as his wife." She spat the last word like it was bitter.
"Wife." A humorless laugh cut the air. "She's nothing but a temporary amusement. A shadow standing where I should be."
Her eyes narrowed as her nails scraped against the fabric, leaving faint scratches.
"She doesn't know him like I do. She hasn't seen him at his weakest, broken under my hands, begging to clear his name while I…" A smile curved slowly, cruelly. "…while I destroyed him with a single tear."
She rose from the couch, moving toward the window, her silhouette outlined in the pale city glow.
