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Not here, not this

Not this one precious thing

“Myhusbanddid this, didn’t he?” I shrieked hysterically.

I clutched my belly, the confirmed truth of his wicked obsession residing deep inside. No one could see the evidence, but I knew it was there. His wicked, lustful obsession.

They all said nothing.

“I’m going to slap you,” I said, turning to the Sheriff.

I raised my hand to him, making sure he could see the approach, my arm stretched back.

And he stood there and let my hand land on his face with a hard, sharp slap. Did nothing to stop me.

Holy hell

Holy hellfire and damnation

How blind had I been? Had I even wanted to see?

Had I just thought this beautiful, perfect small town was a stroke of luck, a coincidence?

Hadanythingin my life been a coincidence?

Or had it all been managed and controlled by my jealous, possessive stepbrother?

“What’s your real name?” I snarled, turning on the kindly, twinkly-eyed sheriff I knew now must be a fucking fraud.

“It’s Sheriff McGinty, of course.”

“No, I mean yourrealname.”

I picked up a big, jagged chunk of glass and spun it contemplatively in my hands.

“Answer me or I’ll cut myself.”

Ifeltthe collective intake of the town, a giant, communal gasp.

And with a sickening twist in my gut, Iknew.

Knew it deep in my bones.

He began to bluff, but I put the tip right at my wrist.

“Your real name.”

“A-Aidan O’Malley.”

“And what is your occupation?”

“Sheriff.”

“What is your occupation?” I snapped, drawing the sharp tip of the shard shallowly down my arm, splitting open my arm with a cut to the wrist.

"A-actor.”

There it was.