Till Death or Divorce — Episode 3

That's not what I asked. He finally turned. His jaw was tight, as if he were holding something back. What did you mean?

I chickened out. Nothing. Have a safe trip. Don't enter the East Wing. Don't open the steel door in the library.

The doors slid shut. For seven months, the mansion became unbearably quiet. Every morning, fresh flowers appeared in the dining room. Every Friday, someone replaced the books beside my bed.

Every month, my favorite chocolate arrived. No one in this house should have known that. Sometimes, late at night, I thought I heard footsteps in the hallway. But every time I opened the door, no one was there.

Then one rainy evening, I walked past the library. The steel door was slightly open. My hand brushed the steel door. Inside, I heard a man's voice.

The dawn returns tomorrow. If Mrs. Marchetti knows, we'll all be buried before sunrise. My blood ran cold. The dawn. Who were they talking about? He came back on day 210. I was in the guest suite, searching for a letter I'd written seven years ago, at the charity gala where I first saw him. I'd hidden it in my suitcase, and now it was gone. I tiptoed past the bed, heading for the

The bathroom door was shut, water running. The shower stopped. I panicked. I ducked behind the armchair. The door opened. Steam billowed out, then bare feet on marble.