Even a Diamond can be shattered...
After the owner of a security company is murdered, his sharp-edged wife goes on the run. Forced to abandon everything she holds dear - her home, her friends, her job in special ops - she builds a new life for herse...
I sat up in bed, sweat dripping off me. The mattress was damp, the outline of my body dark against the maroon sheets. Had I cried out in my sleep? I'd certainly screamed in real life when it happened.
Once again, I'd relived my husband's death, the moment seared into my mind like the climax of a horror movie. I'd have done anything to rewind the film.
Calm, Ash. Calm. I tried to slow my breathing as I listened for signs of movement in the house, but the only noise was a car on the road outside. Good, I hadn't woken Carol.
I rolled out of bed, my steps silent as I crossed to the window and looked out on the moonlit world. Sleep wouldn't come again that night, I knew from experience. It would just be me and my wayward thoughts until morning, and as always, my husband was on my mind.
Always a planner, he'd organised what would happen if one of us died young, but now I realised that had just been paperwork. I'd been left with his share in a security business, his house, his cars, even a fucking jet, but I'd also gained a gaping chasm in my chest, because a part of me died with him.
There were so many things I wished I'd said. Above all, I should have told him I loved him, really loved him, in the way I'd pretended not to for fear he wouldn't feel the same way. I'd have sold my soul to the devil to be held in my husband's arms one last time. He'd been the person who kept me sane, and now I'd lost my damn mind.
Lucifer wasn't dealing, though. My husband was gone, and I was still here.
Which meant I needed to plan. I couldn't risk going home yet, but with cash dwindling, getting a job was a priority. A job that wouldn't lead to my name popping up in any databases, and one that didn't require a reference.
That left two options: low-paid, manual work or something illegal. The latter would certainly pay better, but I didn't want to walk down that road at the moment. Not because I had a problem with breaking the law—the world ranged from black to white, and I'd always walked on the dark side—but because I didn't trust myself not to get caught, not with my head screwed up the way it was.
By morning, I'd set myself a time limit to start looking for work. One week. One week to get my head in order. One week of living in a bubble before I had to rejoin the real world. One week, and the clock was ticking.
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Little did I know that luck would be on my side for once. Only two days had passed when Carol informed me of another outing.
"The horticultural society committee's meeting tomorrow morning, and Vera's making her chocolate fudge cake. You don't want to miss that."
"Could you bring me a slice back?"
She gave me a dirty look over her glasses.
"Okay, okay. I'll come."
What could I say? I was a sucker for dessert.
The village hall held the ubiquitous long table, a variety of old people, a tea urn, a table of plants with handwritten price tags, and—hallelujah—the promised chocolate cake.
