Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1345

Winona’s eyes were ice cold.

“To be honest with you, that year you kept me locked up? I was in pain every single day. Not just pain—despair.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Can you imagine? The guy I loved basically put me under house arrest, then paraded his side chicks around like it was nothing. My heart hurt, my pride hurt—it was humiliating.”

“It wasn’t just humiliation—it was complete hopelessness. I really thought I’d never escape you… It was hell, Zane. Pure hell.”

As she spoke, Winona ground her heel down and snapped Zane’s finger with a sharp crack.

She reached for the paring knife, unlocked the basement cage, and stepped inside.

Zane hadn’t eaten in days. He could barely move, let alone fight her off.

He cradled his mangled hand, blood dripping everywhere, staring at Winona in terror.

“Wh-what are you doing? Y-you can’t… You can’t kill me. That’s illegal…”

Winona murmured, almost to herself, “All you’re feeling is a bit of fear. But you have no idea what real despair feels like.”

“You know I won’t actually kill you,” she continued, her voice eerily calm. “And I can’t keep you locked up as long as you did to me. So you’ll never truly understand what I went through.”

“But if you don’t at least taste a little of that hopelessness, how can we ever be done?”

She smiled, but there was nothing friendly about it. “Zane, remember what I told you? If you don’t love me, don’t mess with me. Because I am Winona.”

Her eyes dropped to Zane’s most vulnerable spot.

“I’m not some pushover like Sarah. Not a chance.”

Her smile turned wicked. Zane must’ve sensed what was coming—his breath caught, total panic on his face.

“Winona, please—don’t do anything stupid. We were married! I know I did you wrong, but—ahh—!”

Winona kicked him hard between the legs. Zane doubled over, wheezing, almost passing out from the pain.

And then—

The knife flashed. One clean, brutal move. It was over.

Zane screamed—a single, ragged cry—then collapsed, unconscious.

A few minutes later, Winona was upstairs washing her hands with disinfectant. As she finished, the doorbell rang.

She opened the door to find the Newsom family’s old family doctor on the porch. “Ma’am?”

“He’s in the basement,” Winona said coolly. “You can take him straight to the hospital. Oh, and do me a favor—call Priscilla and tell her not to bother begging me for her son. He’s all hers now.”

“And if she has any ideas about calling the cops? Well, let’s see who ends up behind bars first—me, or her precious boy.”

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