I was once told that marriage is a facade. I ignored the wisdom of the words, mainly because they came from a fifty-two-year-old swinger, one who believed that monogamy was a self-destructive concept, and a good orgy is the answer to everything. But that slimy stick of sex appeal was right. Not about the orgy, though I never tested that concept out. Marriage is a facade. Simon and I … our facade started early and grew, deep and dark, a pit of secrets and lies. I loved my husband. But I also grew to hate him. Prologue: Helena Ross
