The Husband's Secret: A Psychological Thriller by Franklin Christopher

Author:Franklin Christopher [Christopher, Franklin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unstereotypical Publishing
Published: 2024-09-19T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

PAMELA

The Hilton Bayfront Hotel emerges before me, its exterior a stark contrast to the turmoil within. I drive and let valet park my car because I refuse to hunt for one in the parking garage. This place has become my sanctuary, a haven where I escape the suffocating reality of my life at home. The promise of a hot stone massage, room service, ocean front view and a fully equipped bar offers temporary respite from the storm of my emotions, but at the moment, my mind is only on one thing—what is on Kyle’s tapes.

As I walk into the expansive foyer, the bellhop takes my overnight bag, but I make sure to keep Kyle’s gym bag and my purse with me. They know me here and I keep the suite booked in case I need a mini vacation, or if someone comes in town and I don’t want them staying at our home. My phone buzzes insistently. Kyle’s name flashes on the screen. My finger hovers over the button, but I do not answer. Either he is trying to draw me back—Kyle always knows exactly what to say, the right words to pull me back into his orbit—or he has been home and discovered that I found the tapes.

I close my eyes, memories flooding back in a torrent of pain and anger. Kyle’s voice, sharp with disdain, calling me fat in front of Marissa. The look of confusion and hurt on our daughter’s face. His callous disregard for my feelings when he invited my mother over, knowing full well the tension it would create. The constant pressure for intimacy even as I struggle to heal from the miscarriage that left me physically and emotionally raw.

But it is his last transgression that finally shatters the fragile peace between us. In a moment of cruel manipulation, he dredged up my most traumatic experience, wielding it like a weapon to guilt me into feeling sorry for him. The memory of it makes me want to vomit. No, I will not respond. Not this time. I head over to the bar. Since I’m not pregnant. I plan to drown myself in fruity alcoholic beverages.

“Can I get a strawberry daquiri?” I ask the bartender. I place my credit card on the counter. The bartender nods and commences to making my drink.

As if on cue, my phone rings again. This time it is Mama Witherspoon’s name that lights up the screen. I hesitate, then answer on the third ring. I take a deep breath, forcing cheer into my voice.

“Hey, Mama Witherspoon,” I say, praying my voice does not betray the tears I am desperately holding back.

“Where are you, dear?” The older woman’s voice is warm with concern. “I stopped by the house with some food, and no one was there. I figured you went to a hotel because you didn’t want to see your mother.”

I feel a rush of affection for my mother-in-law. “You know me so well,” I admit, my façade cracking slightly. “I’m at The Hilton Bayfront Hotel.

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