The Marriage Act(72)



‘Do we know each other?’ Cooper replied and took a step back.

‘I think you’re probably more familiar with my husband, Owen.’

Cooper’s face tightened as the penny dropped. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I know exactly what you are doing with my husband, and it stops now.’

Cooper’s eyes shifted to the view behind Roxi.

‘What’s wrong?’ Roxi continued. ‘Scared the neighbours will learn what kind of woman you are? Well, you should be; you’re old enough to be Owen’s mother. You should know better.’

‘Would you like to come inside so we can discuss this privately?’

Cooper positioned her back to the door. Roxi hesitated: she hadn’t expected an invitation. Tentatively she crossed enemy lines and closed the door behind her.

Roxi took in her surroundings. The hallways smelled like cotton and orchids. A wooden staircase led to a brightly lit landing, a stained-glass window was positioned at the end of the corridor and cornices and plaster mouldings framed an ornate ceiling. This immaculate home was yet another reason to hate Cooper.

‘Look at the life you have here. You could have anyone you wanted. Why pick on my husband? Is he your Match?’

‘No!’

‘Then why does he come to your house?’

‘This isn’t a conversation I want to have with you.’

‘And why are you trolling me?’

Cooper’s eyebrows lifted. ‘I’m not.’

‘There’s an account set up in your name and registered to this address.’

‘I don’t know anything about that.’

‘Are you married?’

‘Not that it’s any of your business but I’m widowed.’

‘That makes sense. Look at the size of this place, it must cost a fortune to run. But if you remarry, your bills will be more than halved, won’t they? And what about me and the kids? I assume Owen’s told you he has children.’

‘I am aware of your current marital situation,’ said Cooper.

‘After today you’re never going to see Owen again. Do you hear me?’

Cooper cleared her throat. ‘That’s not for you to decide, Mrs Sager,’ she said with an air of finality. ‘That’s up to your husband and me. When you return home, I suggest you sit down and talk to Owen and then perhaps we can all have an adult conversation and come to some sort of arrangement of where we go from here. Until then, please leave my house.’

Cooper began to open the door but Roxi folded her leg behind her and kicked it shut.

The last time Roxi had been involved in a physical altercation was with the biological child of foster parents she’d been placed with when she was nine. The girl had deliberately tripped her over then laughed as she’d fallen onto a railway sleeper, cutting her lip and chipping a tooth. Roxi had slapped her so hard that the imprint of her hand across the girl’s cheek could be seen late into the night when social services had arrived to take Roxi away. Today, a similar rage tugged at her. And, with all her strength, she shoved Cooper in the chest.

She clearly took her rival by surprise as Cooper had no time to turn and cushion her fall. Instead, she dropped backwards like a felled tree, only stopping when the bones in her neck impacted against the exposed bottom wooden stair and fractured, with a sickening crack.

A moment later and Roxi was left standing over the dead body of her husband’s mistress.





54


Corrine




Corrine let out an irritated huff as she closed the window on her web browser. She suppressed the urge to express her frustration aloud as she didn’t want her wearable tech to record anything that might later be questioned by Magistrates in her forthcoming divorce hearing.

She had been sitting alone in the summer house for much of the afternoon. And she had been using a Freedom for All approved anonymous server to go online and contact local coach companies to check the availability of fleets to transport local party members to London for the forthcoming anti-Marriage Act rally. It was a more menial role than the one she’d played in the Eleanor Harrison debacle and it crossed her mind that perhaps she had been tasked with this because her colleagues didn’t trust her with anything more important. But she refused to give up even though she was struggling to find a firm with enough available vehicles for the 400 campaigners who’d pledged to attend. Corrine had something to prove.

The sight of her children, Spencer and Nora, in the kitchen on the other side of the garden distracted her. They must have just returned from lunch with their father, an event rarer than the appearance of a comet. She closed the lid of her laptop and waved. They didn’t reciprocate, but made a beeline for her. Instinct warned her this was not good.

‘Is it true?’ began Spencer, yanking open the door.

‘Is what true?’

‘That you’re divorcing Dad and lying to the court saying that he hits you?’

Corrine cursed herself for not beating Mitchell to the punch and instigating this conversation before he did. He must have pinned his hopes on their children confronting her and guilt-tripping her into changing her mind. But if she admitted her untruths to them, it would be picked up on her Audite and she would lose her case. And Mitchell knew that she would never lie to their faces. She would need to manipulate the conversation.

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