Every Last Secret

by A.R. Torre

Some women enjoyed sitting at home, but I didn’t. I needed interaction. Friendships. Relationships. My own identity. Otherwise, there was no security blanket. No fallback plan.

She probably loosened the tie on her robe and let it fall open, revealing her bikini-clad body. Had he looked at her? I dug my nails into the seat belt, imagining it was her throat. I didn’t have much in this life, but Matt was one of the few things that was solidly mine. It was out of line for another woman to lounge all over him during an injured moment when he couldn’t move away.

Legit psycho

“When did you decide your husband needed to die?”

I wouldn't be surprised if it were Cat that killed Matt

Neena had never told him about the missing screws. She couldn’t have.

Because Cat undid the screws

That was why, after all, I had done all this.

I knew it!