ng my husband, Andrew Duncan, laugh with his mistress, Maria. He had his arm wrapped around her waist, a casual,

patriarch, the retired senator Mr. Duncan Sr., had a debt to my father, a cop who died saving his life. He raised me, gave me a home,

of his father's control over his life, a debt being paid with

win sons, Caleb and Jayden, were there. They had accidentally bumped into Maria,

k what you've done,

our sons, but to console his mistress. He didn't even look at

ed to our cold, silent mansion, A

aid, his voice dangerously low. "They e

Andrew. It wa

avioral correction camp. A place in the desert. It'll toughen the

as talking about. Brutal, military-style boot cam

shaking my head.

g, desperate act. "Please, Andrew. Don't do this. Punish me. Do whatev

lled with a chilling disgust. He

is is because you're a permissive mother. This is w

way, leaving me crumpl

e. Caleb and Jayden were crying, clinging to my legs, not un

for Andrew as they were dragged

, his face a mask of cold indiffe