Twenty-Six receipts of betrayal Novel novel Chapter 61

The plane cut through the clouds for ten hours.

When we landed, I felt completely drained, like every ounce of strength had been wrung out of me.

Aunt Annie was waiting at arrivals. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Lanie, you’re skin and bones! What happened?”

She grabbed my suitcase with one hand and squeezed my arm with the other, as if I might crumble under the slightest

pressure.

I forced myself to perk up and flashed her a grin.

“Lose a bit of weight, or you won’t be able to outrun warthogs on the savannah later!”

That got a laugh out of her. She tapped my forehead affectionately.

“Look at you, still such a little rascal, always joking around.”

We climbed into Aunt Annie’s beat–up Land Rover. The air rushing through the windows was hot and unfamiliar.

As we crossed a bridge, I glanced down at the murky river flowing slowly beneath us.

My hand drifted to my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold edges of the ring.

*Wear this, and you’ll be real Mrs Winters,* Sean had said.

I stared out at the scenery rushing past, my expression blank. Then I rolled down the window.

And threw the ring as hard as I could.

It traced a tiny arc through the air, barely making a splash before disappearing into the muddy water.

Goodbye, Sean Winters.

Goodbye to my ten absurd, wasted years.

Aunt Annie was one of the world’s top wildlife photographers.

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Twenty–Six Receipts of Betrayal: My Silence Was the Countdown to His Eternal Regret

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Chapter 6

The car stereo pounded with rhythmic African drums as she drove.

She told me about the great wildebeest migration across the Serengeti–dust clouds rising, thousands of hooves

thundering across the plains.

She described chasing dolphins as they leapt through the Atlantic, the sky somehow bluer than the sea.

She even recounted the time she came face–to–face with a dozing lion inside a camouflage blind.

I listened, mesmerized, as vivid images unfurled in my mind.

These were the dreams I’d scribbled on the first page of my college journal–everything I’d ever wanted.

I used to imagine myself like Aunt Annie, camera slung over my shoulder, exploring every corner of the world.

But instead, I’d locked myself in a gilded cage–for a man who never truly saw me.

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