The prison gates opened at dawn, and my husband was not waiting for me.Good. I had not come out to be rescued. Rain slicked the road black, turning the world into a mirror. For two years, I had imagined this moment through a barred window: the cold air, the first breath of freedom, the silence where his apology should have been. My name is Elena Vale, and my husband, Marcus, sent me to prison with tears in his eyes and lies in his mouth. “She pushed her,” he had whispered in court, holding the hand of his mistress, Vivian Cross....
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