When the Caged Canary Stops Crying

Summary

Tonight was the twentieth time Bennett brought a woman back to the penthouse.

She was young—certainly younger than me—with bold crimson lipstick and a clinging black slip dress that left very little to the imagination.

I sat on the corner of the linen sofa, watching them come through the foyer. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, they were already tangled together, mouths locked in a hungry, breathless kiss.

He was supposed to be my boyfriend.

Yet I had no right to object, no ground to stand on. Because in this house, I was simply an invalid.