ard in thirty years, suddenly felt fresh. People at the library already saw me as the woman who had trapped a promising young diplomat, the source of a scandal. This new accusation fit neatly into

there, my silence a wall

ituation, this looks very bad." He didn't have to say what "situation" he

pristine reputation. When he arrived, his expression was unreadable. Mr. Henderson explained the situation

l, of course, compensate the library for its loss if the book is not found, but I will not have Eleanor's name slandered." A flicker of hope ignited within me. I

sk of the supportive husband dropped. The silence was thick

e a slap. "No," I sa

cene at dinner, now this. Do you have any idea how this reflects on me? On my career?" His support hadn't been for me. It had been for h

cery store, I could feel the stares, hear the whispers. "That's her. David Vance's wife. The thief." The shame w

g me to the park near our building. And then I saw them. David and Clara, sitting on a

ng, her voice a soft, manipulative purr. "I don't know ho

s voice cut me deeper than any anger could have

whispered, placing a hand on

complication. The pain was so intense, so familiar, it was hard to breathe. I backed away slowly, silently, before they could see me. Wh

es. He was used to my tears, my pleas for understanding. He wasn't used to my silence. He wasn't used to my indiffer