y Sto

scharge paperwork. The emergency room was always this loud, a mix

w gurney. A woman was on it, her breathing ragged, her

ng. Doctors and nur

year, countless people ende

ifted to the woman'

"secret wife," the one he ne

ietly in a corner, not preening and posing like the other WAGs. She was just d

nd a phony like Armani wer

ird caught in a storm, s

on, not a suicide attempt." He added, "We've notified her

igh of relief, then start curs

snorted. No s

the ER. Armani. He was dressed in expensive casual

exaggerated concern and rage. "Carleen! What the he

ven ask what happened.

ance. "Just because I want a divorce, you pull this drama

tervene. "Sir, the

. "You think I'll feel guilty if you die? I'll feel relieved! You'r

n the cub

t light in her eyes extinguished, l

mother... Catherine Song, the legendary singer who had

r's armrest tightened, m

had never seen a man like Armani Tillman, who would spew such

a man. He

nching herself at Armani, scratching

scended into

ad of security arrived, I spoke in a low, cold voice. "

it carried an authority th

iously recognized me, stiff

dragging Armani out, despite his

ly, s

eyes. Two tears traced paths fr

ears. That was the so

chair and left the

m, "Look into Armani Tillman's