“You would have refused, Evelyn!” Victor yells, slamming my kitchen door behind him as he stalks into the room behind me.
We just spent the last half-hour shaking hands and smiling at people’s congratulations. I kissed my boys, laughed at Willard’s jokes about surprises, smiled for pictures, all the while seething on the inside, waiting for the moment when I could tear him apart.
As soon as there was a break, I caught Victor’s eye. It wasn’t hard – he’s been waiting for this too. Without a word, we both stalked off towards my cottage.
“Yes, Victor,” I say, spinning to face him. “I would have refused, because you took the one thing from me that I have left! You took my freedom,” I say, banging on his honed chest with my fist. “And now you’ve got me all wrapped up in documents, your
