I went up the stairs without a sound, and I found the two of them in my bed.
I did not scream.
I did not throw open the door.
I covered my mouth, backed down the stairs, and let myself out the front without either of them ever knowing I’d been there.
Then I sat in a coffee shop downtown and cried until my espresso went cold.
Chapter 3 — Remembering Who I Was
And then, somewhere in that cold cup, I stopped crying, because I remembered who I had been before Marshall spent five years teaching me to forget.
I was not a submissive housewife.
I was Regina Rollins.
That night I went through the leather briefcase he carried on all his trips.