8
When he burst through her door, Lily threw her arms around him. “I knew you’d come back!”
He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall.
“You lying bitch,” he snarled. “I warned you not to mess with my family.”
He had called her abusive ex–boyfriend. The man had laughed and told Michael the whole story. Lily wasn’t a victim. She was a predator who preyed on married men, who had multiple abortions from her affairs, who had cheated on the man with his own uncle, provoking the beating that Michael had “rescued” her from.
Part 2
“You ruined my life,” Michael hissed, his grip tightening. He let her go just before she passed out. “Get dressed,” he said, his voice dead. “We’re going to the hospital. You’re getting rid of it.”
She fought him, but he was stronger. He dragged her from the car, forced her into the clinic, and paid for the procedure. Then he left her there and drove away.
He had to find Anna.
I was in Singapore, having afternoon tea with my friend, when a call came through from an unknown U.S. number. It was the police.
“Ms. Thome? Your husband, Michael Vance, has filed a report accusing you of narcotics trafficking. We need you to come in for questioning.”
I was floored. He was trying to ruin me. I booked the next flight back, coordinating with my lawyer, who needed me to sign the final divorce
papers anyway.
After a grueling night of questioning and a mandatory drug test, I walked out of the police station. He was there, waiting. He looked like a ghost.
“I’m sorry, Anna,” he whispered. “It was the only way I could get you to come back.”
“Are you insane, Michael? This is a felony accusation! When my test comes back clean, you’re going to jail for filing a false report!”
Part 2
“I know,” he said, a strange, broken smile on his face. “I’ll take the consequences. I just had to see you.”
He begged. He pleaded. He told me he’d gotten rid of Lily and her baby. He swore he loved me, that he couldn’t live without me.
“Michael, I don’t love you anymore,” I said, my voice firm. “Sign the papers. Let’s just be done.”
The look in his eyes changed. The desperation turned into something dark, unhinged. He pulled a canister from behind his back and doused me in gasoline. Then he poured the rest over his own head.
