The Wife – Part Two: For Better, For Worse
If you can’t stop watching Doctor Foster and The Affair, you won’t be able to put down this chilling new four-part series.Michael and Ellie are that couple.The ones who have it all.Success, charm, trust…but no relationship is perfect and the events of the past cast a shadow over their charmed life together.When lecturer Michael starts to mentor a new student, Ellie fears that history is repeating itself. As paranoia takes its ugly hold, it’s clear some things just can’t be forgotten…or forgiven.
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HarperImpulse
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First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2017
Copyright © ML Roberts 2017
Cover photographs © Shutterstock.com
Cover design by Ellie Game © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
ML Roberts asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © September 2017 ISBN: 9780008259877
Version: 2017-09-26
For my husband. His constant support has been everything.
Table of Contents
I start to pull the door towards me, a slight breeze blowing in from outside as it slowly opens, and then I hear it â that sound, a scream that barely has time to resonate before itâs quickly stopped, and it takes a second before I realise it was me, I was the one screaming; the one who was silenced by a hand being clamped heavily over my mouth.
It was me who was screamingâ¦
Michael blamed himself for not protecting me. He blamed himself for everything, but it wasnât his fault.
It wasnât.
Not really.
I pull my knees to my chest and hug them tightly as I sit in the corner of the room that should have been our babyâs nursery. The light, bright yellow walls are almost taunting me, smiling down at me, reminding me of what this room should have been.
The people Michael and I should have been.
Parents.
Fourteen Months Earlier
I canât feel anything but fear. Itâs all-consuming. As Iâm slammed back against the glass door I want to cry out in pain, but I canât; that hand is still clamped firmly over my mouth.
I close my eyes, squeeze them shut, try to pretend this is a dream. Iâm going to wake up any second now because thisisnât happening. And then the hand is roughly removed, and I let out a gasp, double over, clasp my stomach. I need to protect my baby.
A smell of a strong floral perfume fills my nostrils and I look up, my head seemingly taking an eternity to raise itself â it feels like everything is happening in slow motion right now.
âYouâre prettier than I thought youâd be.â
Her words both confuse and terrify me, and I back up against the door, my hand still splayed out over my stomach. I donât know what to do.
âHow did you get in here?â
Her eyes glance over my shoulder at the door behind me. âYou made it too easy.â
I frown, look behind me. I remember Michael took the rubbish out a couple of hours ago⦠We always check every door is locked before we go to bed, before we go out. Always, without fail. At least I thought we did.
âI was just going to rock up on your doorstep, invite myself in, but, you know, it was nice of you to give me an easier entrance. Glad I checked first. All I had to do was scale that fence and there I was, out there, in your garden. Michael talked a lot about his garden. Heâs got a vegetable patch, right? Over by the summer house?â
Who the hell is she? How does she know about Michaelâs vegetable patch, my summer house? How does she know where we live?
She raises her eyes to the high ceiling, her mouth falling slightly open, and I watch her â this woman whoâs invaded our home. I watch as she looks around her, turning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, spinning around until sheâs back facing me. âYou have a lovely home.â She drops her head forward, her eyes staring straight at me. âAnd you ⦠Ellie, isnât it?â Her head falls to one side again as she looks me up and down. âI donât know ⦠I guess I expected someoneâ¦â She lets that sentence tail off, but her eyes continue to stare right through me, and I feel that fear rising, Iâm terrified. âIt doesnât matterâ¦â
She shakes her head as she turns away, walks back out into the kitchen; and thatâs when I reach behind me. I try to fumble for the door handle, shifting my body slightly, I donât want to turn my back on her for too long, I just need to see what Iâm doing. But that was a mistake, turning away from her, even for a second; sheâs behind me before I can grab hold of the handle. The kick she gives to the back of my legs knocks the breath right out of me, and I fall to the ground, hitting my head on the tiled floor as I land. Her fingers grasp my wrist, drag me up off the floor, a wave of pain shooting up my arm. I must have landed on it. But I donât have time to dwell on that. I donât even have time to take another breath before sheâs thrown me back against the floor-to-ceiling window, her fingers winding in my hair, yanking my head back. Her sweet, cloying perfume is unbearably strong, and I feel a sickening jolt of fear at what this woman might do to my baby.
