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Back The Marriage Trap: A completely addictive psychological thriller Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Books by Sheryl Browne
  3. Dedication
  4. KARLA
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Nineteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-One
  26. Twenty-Two
  27. Twenty-Three
  28. Twenty-Four
  29. Twenty-Five
  30. Twenty-Six
  31. Twenty-Seven
  32. Twenty-Eight
  33. Twenty-Nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-One
  36. Thirty-Two
  37. Thirty-Three
  38. Thirty-Four
  39. Thirty-Five
  40. Thirty-Six
  41. Thirty-Seven
  42. Thirty-Eight
  43. Thirty-Nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-One
  46. Forty-Two
  47. Forty-Three
  48. Forty-Four
  49. Forty-Five
  50. Forty-Six
  51. Forty-Seven
  52. Forty-Eight
  53. Epilogue
  54. The Affair
  55. Hear more from Sheryl
  56. Books by Sheryl Browne
  57. A Letter from Sheryl
  58. The Babysitter
  59. The Second Wife
  60. Acknowledgements

A slow swallow sliding down his throat, his antennae on red alert, he waited, and then, hearing nothing but sudden stillness from down below, he moved quietly across to the wardrobe, yanking the case from the top to pack the last of the things he needed in.

He was grabbing stuff from inside the wardrobe when he heard the creak of a floorboard on the landing. Glancing quickly towards the door, he saw Karla standing there, not moving. Her face devoid of any particular emotion, she was simply watching him; continued to watch him, calmly, as he pushed his clothes into the case. Jason wasn’t sure which was more worrying, the explosion of anger downstairs or this, the ominous silence of suppressed fury.

Forty-Eight

KARLA

THE LAST CHAPTER

I should be following him. I should be there when he arrives. Instead, I stand frozen to the spot, dry-eyed with shock. I tried to prepare myself for this, but I prayed he wouldn’t actually do it. Prayed so hard. Hatred settles like ice inside me. Not for the man who’s leaving me, but for the man who’s responsible for his leaving. The man who should pay for the unbearable pain he’s caused me, caused my family. The guilt and the shame. Listening to my husband reversing his car swiftly from the drive, keen to be gone into what he imagines will be the safe embrace of his Jezebel, and with my arms wrapped tightly about myself, the knife still in my hand, I make my decision. I can’t follow him. I have something more pressing to do. Jason will find out what a terrible mistake he’s made. He can’t fail to.

I’m about to turn from the door when a newspaper rattles noisily through the letterbox. I glance at it and then stop. A laugh of bewilderment escapes me as my gaze alights on a photograph of myself and Jason. My mouth running dry, I crouch to retrieve the paper from the floor and register the headline emblazoned across it – daughter of outed uk businessman in dodgy relationship. My heart freezes.

Scanning the photograph, my mind skittering feverishly from thought to thought, I try to work out how they’d managed to get hold of it. It’s one taken in Paris, grabbed from Instagram possibly? Below it, there’s a photograph of my father, his arm draped about a young woman, his hand brushing her breast. Noting his smile – a smile of triumph, almost – and the licentious look in his eyes, I emit another slightly hysterical laugh and brace myself to read on.

‘Robert Fenton, the latest multimillionaire businessman accused of implementing non-disclosure agreements, used by some employers to gag employees from reporting allegations of sexual harassment and abuse, appears to have passed some of his dubious traits on to his son.’