Am I Not Merciful?
She'd spent the night at some friends' place, and now she was back home. Charlotte was still with her grandparents, they got to see her seldom and therefore treasured every moment they could share with her.
As she unlocked the front door her thoughts floated back to the TV show she'd watched the night before, and a small smile crept to her lips. For all that she still didn't approve completely what her husband did for a living, she had to admit he looked particularly charming onscreen.
The hall was silent and empty. She made herself a cup of tea, then headed straight upstairs. She paused when she saw a note taped to the door that led to the bedrooms, it wasn't like Patrick to leave a message there.
Dear Mrs. Jane – it said – I do not like to be slandered in the media, especially by a dirty money-grubbing fraud like your husband.
The teacup fell at her feet with a shattering noise, spilling tea all over the floor. Her hand trembled on the doorknob before she could eventually bring herself to face what she was going to find at the other side of that closed door.