A Divorce He Regrets (Alissa Nexus) novel Chapter 155

ELIZA

There was one place in particular that Dominic would go to after work. It wasn't flashy, but it had just the right balance of privacy and exclusiveness for him to meet clients, hold casual discussions, or simply unwind before heading home. More often than not, he would pick up something on his way out for his pathetic little wife, playing the role of doting husband.

I smiled to myself, my fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel as I watched from across the street. The familiarity of his routine made him predictable. Easy to track. If Alex didn't want me, then fine. I'd make Dominic want me. He was the bigger prize anyway—more money, more influence. And, unlike Alex, he wasn't tangled up in some stupid emotional mess with Raina.

I leaned back in my seat, the reflections of the streetlights flickering across my face mask. It still smarted, that memory of Alex finding out the truth about Liam—about me poisoning that little, stubborn brat who simply would not die. I hadn't expected Vanessa to betray me, not in the way she did. Stupid, dense girl. She had one job.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, the leather creaking softly under my grip. Vanessa wasn't my biggest problem anymore. I had other things to focus on, like getting to Dominic before he disappeared into his bubble of domestic bliss.

My mind wandered for a moment to the prison from which I had escaped. It was a cesspool of desperation and stupidity, the kind of place that could crush someone if they weren't strong enough. Thankfully, I was.

The best part of the prison was that the women weren't exactly bright. Most of them were too busy plotting against each other to pay attention to what I was doing. Then there was her. That Stud who thought I was hers the moment she saw me.

I closed my eyes for a moment, shaking my head as the memory clawed its way back.

Her hands were rough, her grip firm. The way she cornered me in the laundry room, her breath hot on my neck, made my stomach churn even now. “You stick with me, pretty girl, and no one will touch you,” she’d said, her voice low and laced with menace.

And I’d let her.

I let her believe she owned me because it was the only way to live. Nights spent lying in her bunk, sleeping with her, feigning the fact that her touch didn't disgust me were nights I wasn't afraid of being stabbed in the dark.

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