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INTERVIEWER So, Adam, what’s your plan B then? ADAM MORGAN There is no plan B. I just have to keep fighting, keep appealing, and keep the hope that one day my conviction will be overturned. INTERVIEWER You still have hope? ADAM MORGAN I do. It’s the one thing they can’t take away from me.
I hated that man, but I did not wish for his death. He was guilty for cheating and being a shit husband/person, but he didn’t deserve to die a painful death
ADAM MORGAN Sarah is my wife, not my former wife. INTERVIEWER My mistake. Yes, your wife, Sarah. You’ve been on death row for the past seven years, yet she’s remained married to you—why do you think that is? ADAM MORGAN Because Sarah loves me, and she knows I’m innocent.
I knew when I married Bob, I would divorce him one day, because men are like lawyers. They can’t be trusted.
Yeah, that is what they all say, but only once they get caught. They’re not sorry for what they’ve done. They’re sorry that you know what they’ve done.
I can barely even see him standing in front of me because he’s already a part of my past.
To me trust is like glass. Once you break it, you can’t put it back together—and even if you tried, you’d end up cutting yourself in the process. So, you may as well just throw it away.
“You’re lucky the worst thing I’m doing to you is divorcing you.” My words come out soft, almost soothing. “Is that a threat?” he asks, his face turning incredulous. “You know I don’t make threats, Bob.”
Parenthood is supposed to make you want to be a better person, or at the very least, make you think you’re a better person. Motherhood changed me just like I knew it would. But apparently, becoming a father did nothing for Bob. He didn’t only cheat on me. He cheated on our family. And he pretended to be something he’s not capable of being—decent.
His face is a mixture of resentment and sorrow, but there’s a glimmer of something else, something I’ve seen before. I just can’t place it.
Bob’s lucky I’m not the same woman I was when I was with Adam, my first husband. If I had had children with Adam, maybe he’d still be around. Because, as I said, becoming a mother changed me, and I know they say people can’t change. They can though. At the core, we are who we are—but that doesn’t mean parts of us can’t soften or harden over time.
What happened last night? Did I drink too much? Did I get my hands on some LSD or E again?
I try to move farther into the darkness, but my leg is jerked back abruptly. A sharp pain pricks at my ankle, the metal cuff digging into my skin. “What the fuck?”
You can truly get away with anything if you have the means. I’m proof of that, and so are my former clients.
I’m the founder and executive director of a charity called the Morgan Foundation.
I’m sure you have questions about that. Why keep it? Why name my charity after it? Well, funny enough, Morgan is my maiden name. I never took Adam’s, and he never cared. His mother did, but not him. When Adam got his first book deal, he decided to use Morgan as his pseudonym—Rumple just didn’t have the same air of sophistication. His mother was livid, but what she hated even more was when Adam made it official by legally changing his last name. So, that’s why it’s called the Morgan Foundation: because Morgan is mine, and it always has been.
Bob still works at Williamson & Morgan, except now it’s Williamson, Miller & Associates, as he made named partner earlier this year. It took me leaving the firm for him to achieve my position, and even then, it was Williamson & Associates for a long time. It appears that we were never a match to begin with because I outmatched him.
Money comes and goes, but time only goes. Not a lot of people realize that. When you give someone your time, what you’re really giving them is a piece of you, and that’s why you have to be careful with it.
A view is only a view until you stop appreciating it, and eventually, we all do.
“What is wrong with him?” “Well, for starters, he’s a man.” “True.” Anne tilts her head, giving me an amused look. “Why are men?” I squint, waiting for her to finish. “That’s it. That’s the whole question. Why are men?” She chuckles.
“And this is how you fix a bad person?” His question catches me off guard, and I find myself locking eyes with him again, just for a moment—but in that moment, it feels like we can see into each other’s souls. I wonder what he sees in mine. “No. This is how we give a person who did bad things a second chance to do some good ones.”
A husky voice comes through, one I immediately recognize. It’s lost the authority it once held. Life can do that to you.
“I need your help,” he says. “With what?” He exhales noisily. “I don’t know exactly, but I’ve got a gut feeling I’m going to need your legal services.” “Where are you?” “I’m at the Prince William County Sheriff’s Office . . . in their custody.”
It used to be him giving the commands around here. But not anymore. Things change, and apparently, so do people—for the worse, that is. Ryan was slipping for a while there. Then about a year ago, he started spiraling out of control, and it didn’t take long for the community to notice their sheriff was a drunk.
you hit someone with your truck.” His jaw goes lax, and he takes a few beats to speak. “I . . . I don’t know what happened.” “I do. You got shit-faced drunk . . . again, got behind the wheel, and plowed into a woman out on an early-morning run.” My remarks come out louder and harsher than I intended. “Is she all right?” His voice cracks, signaling his fear. “No, Ryan . . . she’s dead.”
It’s been a while since I’ve occupied the same room as Sarah Morgan. I’ve seen her in passing, but we haven’t really spoken. I know she founded a charity because I’ve read the puff pieces in the newspaper. I just don’t trust her. I never have, and that’s why I’ve kept my distance. Ryan would be wise to do the same.
“Unless you can prove Sarah is a danger to Summer.” He pauses and arches a brow. “Has Sarah ever been violent with Summer?”
She was stoic, and it was as though she were reviewing a case rather than intimate photos of her husband with another woman. “Where did you get these?” she asked, still flipping through them. “Let’s just say . . . I keep close tabs on the woman your husband is having an affair with.” That got her attention, and she met my gaze, slightly narrowing her eyes. “Why?” “Because she killed my brother.”
know why you think you’re telling me this, Bob.” “What?” “You thought I’d freak out, take a leave of absence, get tied up in some messy divorce, lose my focus. And then what? You’d swoop in and take my partnership.” “Sarah, no. That’s not true at all,” I lied. She had me pegged, always one step ahead, too smart for her own good.
“But I know why you actually shared it with me.” I gave her a confused look. “You want what I want, Bob.” “And what is it you think I want?” “Revenge.” The corners of her lips perked up, forming the most sinister smile, instantly putting me under her spell. I knew things would be different between us after that. They couldn’t not be.
“Has Sarah ever been violent with Summer?” “No.” I shake my head. Not with Summer.
Honestly, I thought Sarah would serve a bullet right through my forehead if she ever found out—so I was shocked that her response to my infidelity wasn’t lethal. And that’s what I’m holding on to. That’s why I think we can find our way back to each other. If she didn’t love me, she would have killed me.
“I can fix this.” “And if you can’t?” “Then I’ll fight like my life depends on it.” Brad cracks a smile. He thinks I’m trying to be funny, but I’m not. I will have to fight like my life depends on it because, with Sarah, I know it does.
“Shoot it to me straight. What are my odds of walking away from this?” He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. I tilt my head to the side and squint. “Do you remember my former husband’s case?” “Yeah.” “Your odds are worse than his.”
“It was a mistake, the biggest one I’ve ever made, and I swear it didn’t mean anything. You are the only one that matters. It was a big night for me, and I was wasted. I don’t know what happened. One moment, I was giving a speech, and the next, well . . . I don’t remember, and I don’t remember her either.”
Don’t tell me he was drugged too
They say there’s no difference between a scorned woman and the devil himself, and I believe it—because I can’t tell which one I’m looking at.
When you found out what . . . happened, you didn’t even confront me. You didn’t question me. You didn’t yell at me. We didn’t have a single conversation about it. You just quietly filed for divorce. Come on! Who does that?” “I do,” she says, adding a drizzle of olive oil to the pan, followed by the mushy onions. “We have a daughter. I know you’re pissed at me but think about Summer.” Sarah sifts through the spice cabinet, collecting an array of seasonings. “That’s exactly who I am thinking about and why I filed for divorce rather than taking some other course of action.” My wife only has two
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Our attention goes to our nine-year-old daughter, the one thing tethering Sarah and me to each other. And perhaps the only reason my wife slashed me with the knife instead of completely gutting me.
We have a dishwasher, but I don’t trust it to do a good enough job. Most things you just have to clean up yourself.
However, in a bizarre turn of events, Stevens’s DNA profile matched evidence connected to a double homicide case that happened more than a decade ago.”
“Former sheriff Ryan Stevens led and oversaw the Summers homicide investigation and quickly zeroed in on literary author Adam Morgan, who had been having an affair with the victim. Her body was found in his home, and he was the last one to see her alive,”
The discovery that former sheriff Stevens’s DNA profile matches evidence collected from the victim’s body calls into question the validity of the case against Adam Morgan. So the question now is, was the wrong man put to death?
“Sarah.” Bob’s voice shakes. “We should talk about this?” It comes out as both a question and a statement. “No, we shouldn’t,” I say because I already know he can’t be trusted.
I always knew there was something off with the Kelly Summers case. Nothing about it ever felt right. I had my theories. This wasn’t one of them though.
“We need to get ahead of this, so the Summers investigation will be reopened in its entirety, and I’ll need all hands on deck. If you didn’t work here when it happened, get up to speed. If you did, refresh your memory. I want everything from that case pulled, and I mean everything. Witness statements, trial notes, testimonies, police reports, every single shred of evidence. Understood?”
I can’t understand how he could have had an affair with his chief deputy’s wife. You don’t do that to a fellow badge. And what would Scott Summers think of this? Has he heard the news that his former boss betrayed him and may have even had something to do with his wife’s death? Actually, is he even still alive? He quit the force and left town shortly after the trial. I never heard from him again.
Poor Kelly. I thought maybe we got it right, that we got justice for her, but honestly, the whole investigation never sat right with me. It was too easy.
It’s not enough to pin anything on you, especially if there’s no other evidence tying you to her murder.” “I know, and I was in Wisconsin, nine hundred miles away, when she was killed, so it’d be hard for them to tie me to it because I can’t be in two places at once.” He raises a brow and taps his pointer finger against his chin. “Unless, of course, you hired someone to kill her?”
I don’t know what to do. In my heart, I want to fight for Sarah. I want to win her back. But in my gut, I feel like shit’s about to hit the fan, and if I don’t start thinking clearly, I’m going to get plastered with
It was more like a love tap, though, because I know what she can really do with a knife.
I stare back at Brad, pondering, thinking of my beloved wife—with her blond hair, green eyes, sculpted cheekbones, and slender frame, she could be confused for an angel. But that’s only if you don’t know her.
