Clinging to Gian like a lifeline, she refused to let go.
Time and again, she’d thrown wrenches into Danielle’s plans, sabotaging her work whenever she could.
Danielle had nothing left to say to her.
After all, you can’t reason with someone hell-bent on self-destruction.
Millie heard Danielle’s words, but they barely scratched the surface. She gripped the steering wheel, her voice flat and emotionless. “At least you’re self-aware.”
“What?” Millie glared at her, throat tightening, suddenly at a loss for words. Whatever she said now would only make her seem desperate.
In the end, she just let out a bitter scoff. “You really know how to twist the truth.”
Up ahead, the road curved sharply. Danielle tapped the brake, but the car barely slowed. As she turned the wheel, the whole vehicle shuddered violently.
Millie jumped in her seat. “What the hell are you doing?”
Danielle’s brow furrowed. She eased off the gas and tried the brake again—still nothing.
They were on a steep mountain road outside the city, the way down a series of sharp descents and hairpin turns.
She quickly shifted into a lower gear and did everything she could to slow the car, but the speed didn’t drop.
Millie, a professional racecar driver, caught on immediately.
“The brakes are out?”
Her heart sank. She knew exactly how dangerous this was.
“Why didn’t you take the car in for maintenance?” Millie’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the handle, then started rattling off instructions, telling Danielle what to do.
Danielle cut her off, voice cold and steady. “Shut up.”
Millie took a deep breath, feeling the car lurch out of control beneath her. Her heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from her chest. She looked down and dialed Alexander’s number, voice trembling as she explained what was happening.
Danielle’s eyes narrowed. “You should be calling highway patrol, giving them our location so they can clear the road and keep people safe—not calling your boyfriend in tears.”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: The Wife You Buried Is Back from Hell