Lorraine's body trembled as if every fiber of her being struggled to process his words. The slow, teasing grin on Leroy's face made the ache in her chest worse, not because of cruelty, but because of tenderness, and something far more dangerous: hope.
"Only you, Lorraine…" he whispered again, his voice lower this time, deeper, as though repeating a sacred vow. "You are mine. Mine alone."
Her heart fluttered and then stuttered, like a fragile bird trapped in a storm. Her entire belief, the fragile fortress she had built around herself to survive the treacherous world they inhabited, began to crack.
Happiness tried to break through the shock, that faint light calling her toward something real, something gentle… But the disbelief screamed louder, louder than her yearning.
It couldn't be true.
Could it?
Was she dead? Had the cruel fate finally delivered her to some illusory heaven where her husband only loved her? Where no lies, no manipulation, no politics stood between them?
