Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

A loud crash split the air-her phone shattered against the floor.

Rosita dropped to a crouch, clutching her head, a piercing scream ripping from her throat.

She was seventeen again: blood, pain, those nightmarish memories flashing

before her eyes-

"Lauren, I hate you! I hate you!"

Her screams were raw, guttural, as she yanked at her own hair, desperate for any sensation to drown out the chaos in her mind. But the pain from her scalp barely scratched the surface of her unraveling nerves.

She jerked her head up, wild eyes darting around the room.

Suddenly, she lunged toward the bar. Her hands closed around a vase, and she hurled it to the floor with all her strength.

Smash!

Porcelain exploded, shards skittering across the hardwood.

A feverish light flickered in Rosita's eyes. She darted over, snatched up a jagged piece, and dragged it across her forearm.

"Rosita!"

Daisy's shriek cut through the madness as she rushed over, grabbing Rosita's wrist. But she was too late. Crimson poured from the wound, spilling down Rosita's arm.

sound. "Fun, isn't

the blood streaming from her arm. She looked

trembled as she clung to Rosita. She'd never seen her

down. You

in an instant; tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the blood on

didn't mean it, I swear, I didn't mean it. Please-I'm so

only stare,

earth is

rolled back. She collapsed, limp as a rag

"Rosita!"

was too scared to call emergency

Instead, she phoned Bill.

at the hotel minutes later, a private

rang.

Rosita's bedside,

answer wrist only to

grabbed from behind.

around. Somehow,

back down. "Don't move. I called Bill-he brought a doctor with

"I don't need a doctor! Go tell Bill I'm fine.