Protected By The Enforcer: My Ex-Husband's Regret

ved on a Tuesday. It stated clearly that the single slot a

signed away our son's protection to

oft," and sent him to an unguarded

ter, the Russ

nd. Just a package containing a shred of blue cott

tch, stepped over me as I wept on the f

d never hear my son's laughter again, I swallow

arkness d

rt hammering against my r

om

ay, wearing his dinosaur

r. It was May 15th. The

chest calcifie

about the fake widow status. I k

he one number no wife was ever sup

eason," I said. "And I

pte

asn't just a piece of paper; it was a death warrant for my son,

tine suburban home, the thick crea

ngle slot allocated to Capo T

le Sp

smelling of expensive scotch and the clo

t even l

owl, the sound echoing like a

n," I said, my voic

tie, his expressi

cated, Sarah

on hitting me like a sucker punch to the gut. "You

his eyes cold and devoid o

the words smooth as oil. "It brings honor to my sta

ping toward him with a trembling rage

hen as if I were a ghost. "He needs to toughen up. I'm sending

ave fought

ve clawed h

s the go

d to sing pretty songs and nev

believ

n my eyes, tucking his favorite d

t hub, watching him climb into the bl

baby," I

tinted glass, his small han

last time I s

later, the

asn'

I barely knew,

n had no

Bratva had b

too

the phone slipping f

home ho

idn'

dn't

k and looked at

e of broken furniture. "This is the life. People die. If you hadn't

lame

political play, for a mist

arrived the

nsom

a mes

ckage was a s

n with a g

lood that had turn

the metallic scent fill

alread

r. Comforting

to the

d the c

bottle of sleeping

t write

o one left

raying for the silence to drown out the sound of m

ness cam

heavy a

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