He Stands at the End of Memory

When Vivienne Carter married Sebastian Cross at twenty-two, everyone said how lucky she was.

He was ten years older, a mafia Don with terrifying power in his hands, and yet for three years he doted on her alone.

He indulged her in everything, kept her sheltered under his wing, tender and attentive down to the smallest detail.

Only in the dead of night did he turn possessive and overpowering, taking without limit, never once relenting even when she begged him through tears.

She had always been certain she was the one thing he loved.

Then her father died without warning. Drowning in grief, she called him ninety-nine times, and every call was cut off.

In an instant, a single photo shattered every illusion she had.

On a Paris street softened by dusk, the man she'd loved for three years was bending to hold another woman.

That woman, gentle-featured and faintly resembling her, was her cousin.

On the day of my father's funeral, my husband, Sebastian, never came after all.

Night fell, and Sebastian came home.

He saw how pale and worn my face was and reached out to comfort me. I turned my head away.

"This is my fault, baby. Something came up in Paris and I had to deal with it. Whatever you want, I'll make it up to you, okay?"

After a long silence, I lifted my hand and slid two neatly folded documents across to him. "Sign them."

Sebastian looked relieved. Without so much as glancing at what they were, he picked up a pen and signed his name.

As far as he was concerned, anything I wanted, whatever it was, he'd agree to without hesitation.

"Anything you and the baby need, I'll give you, sweetheart."

I'd just opened my mouth to say something when his phone cut sharply through the quiet.

The name flashing on the screen was the one he kept pinned at the top and never let me see. Serena.

Serena, my cousin.

He ended the call and gave an awkward little laugh, then pressed a light kiss to my forehead. "There's a deal I have to close. I've got to go make money for our baby. I'll spend real time with you next time, all right?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He grabbed his coat and turned to go, hurried, without a trace of reluctance.

The house sank into dead silence, the empty space pressing down until it was hard to breathe.

I sank slowly back onto the couch.

Countless images flooded in without warning, every small piece of the last three years.

Sebastian had treated me well, so well that every woman in the city envied me.

I slept badly, so for three years he held me on his side every night and pulled the blanket over me, never once letting it slip.

Whenever we fought, right or wrong, he was always the first to soothe me and the first to apologize. He would swallow his own feelings rather than let