The Last Mrs. Parrish

by Liv Constantine

That’s what wealth does for you, she thought. It gives you the means and the power to remain concealed from the world if you choose to—or if you need to.

But Amber wasn’t interested in someone with a rich daddy. She wanted the rich daddy himself.

Daddy

I was learning that emotional intimidation could be just as unsettling as physical.

“I seduced his girlfriend, had her break up with him for me, then I dumped them both.”

Oooo foreshadow

Despite Jackson’s strong arm around my shoulder and my mother standing next to me, I felt utterly and completely alone.

the time he fully revealed himself to me, it was too late. He had used my vulnerability to his advantage, like a general armed for battle. His weapons were kindness, attention, and compassion—and when victory was assured, he discarded them like spent casings, and his true nature emerged.

He sighed. “Yeah, that’s another thing. It’s disgusting. Your breasts are like two overblown balloons. I don’t want your tits hanging to the floor. Enough is enough.”

What a fucking dick

“Too bad she didn’t die when your father did. I really hate having in-laws.”

“Here’s a little tip: I will always be ten steps ahead of you. Keep that in mind when you decide you know better than I do what’s good for you.”

His cavalier comment about my mother dying made me realize there was no going back after tonight. I had to leave. Tomorrow I would pack up the baby and go to my mother’s.

As he spoke, he continued to stare at her. “Did you know that over two thousand babies die of SIDS each year?”

All I could think to ask myself was how he had done it. How had he played the part for over a year? What kind of a person can keep up a charade for that long? And why was he showing me the truth now? Did he think that I’d stay with him just because we had a child together? Tomorrow, I would go, but tonight, I’d do what he said, do whatever it took to make him think he’d won.

“This is the last time we’re having this conversation. You are mine. You’ll always be mine, and you’ll listen to what I say from now on. If you are a good little wife and obey, everything will be fine.” He

Interviews with sociopaths have revealed that they’re able to identify a potential victim merely by the way the person walks. Our bodies apparently telegraph our vulnerabilities and sensitivities. Spouses of sociopaths are said to have an overabundance of empathy. I found that bit of information hard to understand. Is there really such a thing as too much empathy?

Little by little, I would play her, just as she’d played me.

He threw the gun at her, and it fell to the floor before she could catch it. “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Take a look at the initials.” She picked it up and saw the letters she’d first read months before: YMB. “What does it stand for?” He smiled. “You’re mine, bitch.”