“Hello, is this Mrs. Cooke? Peter Cooke’s been in a serious car accident. We need you to come in as soon as possible.”
I froze. That’s when it hit–Peter was hurt.
They kept pressing, but I cut in.
“I’m not his wife. You’ll need to contact his family.”
There was a pause. Then the voice dropped, confused.
“His phone lists you as ‘Wife.“”
Two months later, Lionel handed me a death certificate.
“Peter’s gone ”
My hand froze. The fork hit the plate with a sharp clink
Something twisted in my chest—hard to name it.
Lionel sat next to me, laced his fingers through mine, and started fidgeting with them. Then he told me everything
3/2
Chopter
After Peter went back to Rivera, he unraveled. Hooked up with anyone who looked his way–except Cindy.
He iced her out, blamed her for me not forgiving him.
As for the baby? He sent money. That’s it. Never showed his face.
Cindy lost it. Went full public with the affair, spilled all the dirty laundry from our marriage.
Peter shut it down fast. Sued her,
She cracked. Like, completely snapped.
One snowy day, she stabbed him.
He bled out in the snow–bright red everywhere–but still wouldn’t go to the hospital.
He crawled back to our old house, locked himself in the bedroom, and hit the floor. Ting
His guys were right behind him, banging on the door, trying to save him.
But it was like he didn’t hear a thing.
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