“I should have let them throw you in prison, you know that.” She turns away, walking toward her car door. Her statement infuriates me. I follow her, digging my fingernails into my palms, I breathe through my nose. “So you could have him?” I blurt. My blood pounds in my ears. I ask myself that question all the time. I say it again. “You should have lost the case so you could have him?” She freezes, looks at me over her shoulder. “Yeah.” I didn’t expect the truth. It frightens me. I open my mouth — force the words out. “I thought you loved your husband.” She blows air through her nose. The
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