Page 185 of This Life of Mine

So Alex talks. To distract her. To hold her where she is—anchored in conversation, suspended between choices. Every word he offers her is measured, deliberate—engaging enough to keep her answering instead of acting.

Alex is buying time. I know it. Reese is already moving pieces somewhere I can’t see.

So I help.

“Why?” I ask, breaking the tension to throw her off tempo. “Why me? Why any of it?”

Her grip tightens, forcing the cold barrel deeper against my temple until the steel bites into my skin.

“What did I ever do to you?” I continue, my voice steadier than I feel. “I loved your son. I stood by him when I should have walked away sooner. I was going to have your grandchild.”

Her laugh is sudden.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she says sharply. “Cole means nothing to me. And neither do you—or the child you carried.”

The words strike deeper than her palm ever did.

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head as if I’m the one who doesn’t understand the rules of this world.

“You think this was about you?” she says. “About Cole?” Her eyes travel over me, studying. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to look in a mirror?”

My stomach tightens.

Her eyes narrow—not cruelly. Something like recognition flickers there instead.

“You came from nothing,” she says. “I did too,” she continues. “Nothing handed to me. No safety net. No one waiting to catch me if I fall.” Her mouth twists. “So when a man like David comes along—money, power, promises—I persuaded myself it was love. Anything to escape the hell-hole I was in.”

A humorless laugh slips out. “It wasn’t. It was another cage, only dressed up like freedom.”

She shifts, the gun dipping slightly, as if the weight of the memory pulls it down.

“I loved a man who made sure I never forgot how disposable I was,” she continues, her voice tightening enough to betray the years she pretends didn’t leave scars.

“Every time I tried to leave because I couldn’t endure another minute with that son-of-a-bitch,” she says, “he reminded me what I’d lose. He made sure I understood I would walk out with nothing and no one and he would make my life miserable for leaving him.”

Her eyes harden. “And that was no threat. I know my husband. That was a promise.”

Silence hangs heavy.

“I stayed because I was afraid,” she says, adding. “At first, I told myself things would get better. Then I told myself I was staying for the children. Before I knew it, thirty years had passed.”

A bitter laugh escapes her.

“One day I looked around and realized I don’t recognize my life. I spent three decades in a marriage without love, convincing myself that surviving was enough.” Her gaze drops to her hand holding the gun.

“My daughters barely speak to me.” She swallows hard. “They say I’m cruel. That I demanded perfection and never let them simply be my children.” Her gaze drops to her manicured nails. “Maybe they’re right.”

Her jaw tightens.

“And my son...”

“My son looks and acts so much like his father it hurts. Same arrogance. Same entitlement. Same way of making me feel small with a single sentence.” The stillness stretches between us.

“I gave everything I had to my family,” she says. “And somehow it was never enough.” Her voice cracks.

“So I stopped trying to escape, stopped being defiant every chance I got,” she says. “I started planning.”

My stomach tightens.