The President's Wife - Kathy Myme Page 0,43

I die here, it’ll just be another front-page story for ClickBoom News and all the stalkerish paparazzi. I’ll just be another story for Stephanie to write about.

Stephanie. I’d almost completely forgotten her messages from earlier.

“Trevor, have you been talking to a journalist? Stephanie from ClickBoom News?” I try to keep my voice calm, slow, and relaxed. If I panic, that’s only going to set him off further. “I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but it’s her job to get a reaction out of you. None of it is true.”

“It’s all fucking true,” he yells, shaking me. My throat tenses up against the blade. “That bitch didn’t have to tell me anything. Nothing I didn’t already see plastered all over the news.”

“So you did talk to her?”

“None of your fucking business, whore,” he snarls. “For once in your damn life, think about me. Slut.”

Something like realization dawns on me. “Did… did Stephanie tell you where to find me?”

“You’re damn right she did,” he says, his nose wrinkling. “Bet you didn’t see that fucking coming, did you?”

He spits on me. It lands on my cheek, and I look down in humiliation.

“Did you think about me once before you ran into his arms? Before you fucked him?”

I take a deep breath. Every second here is valuable. “Trevor, I need you to stop and think for a moment. You know me. We’ve been together… for so long.” Tears hit my chin more rapidly. My whole body is shaking as if I’m about to explode. “All I’m asking is that you hear me out. That you listen to the truth.”

His whole body goes still. For a moment I wonder if he’s vanished until the stillness of the knife at my neck reminds me of his presence.

“Please, Trevor,” I whisper, “if you ever loved me…”

A long pause. It’s as if he’s run out of steam entirely. Like his mind has come to a halt after a car crash.

And then he speaks.

“You never loved me, whore,” he hisses. “Whores like you deserve to die.”

It all happens in an instant. Strangely, I know it’s coming. I know Trevor too well not to be attuned to every movement of his body, to be conscious of every tensing muscle.

I’m not ready to die. But I don’t think I have a choice.

There’s a lot of noise. I’m not sure if it’s me screaming or Trevor yelling or the world falling apart around us.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight. But when I open them again…

I’m covered in blood.

Huh. I’d always thought getting stabbed would hurt a lot more than this.

Getting stabbed really should hurt a lot more than this.

I blink. The blood… isn’t mine.

The scene before me has unfolded rapidly. Trevor is leaning into me, shrieking and gasping for air hideously.

“Trevor, your shoulder…” I try to keep him upright because without me it seems as if he’ll topple to the ground.

“Drop the knife.”

It isn’t Trevor speaking. I look towards the source of the voice, a few meters away from us.

President Shepard. But there’s nothing presidential about him at this moment. His face is hard, ruled by nothing but cold emotion. He’s not a diplomat. He’s a man enraged.

“David!” I call out. “You- did you?” My gaze rapidly switches from Trevor’s wounded shoulder to David. To the gun in his hands. “You shot him?”

“He was about to attack you.” The President doesn’t flinch. “I did what I had to do.”

I stand there, slack-jawed and speechless. What the hell has just happened?

“David-”

“Veronica, get down,” he commands me suddenly.

This time I see it all like it’s in slow motion. Trevor raising the knife again, even with a bullet in his shoulder. David’s look of alarm as the blade comes towards me slowly.

The look on the President’s face as I elbow Trevor where it hurts most and duck out of his grasp.

“Fuck!” Trevor screams, covered in blood and almost spewing from the mouth. “Fuck! Fuck!”

I sprint as fast as I can to where David is standing. I don’t want to cower in fear, but standing behind him makes me feel a whole lot safer.

“Drop the weapon,” David repeats slowly. There is no sympathy in his voice. The husky tone has taken on a darkness I’d never even known could be there. “I’m warning you. Drop the knife or I’ll shoot.”

“Do it, Trevor,” I plead. “You have to stop this.”

From the distance I’m at now, it’s easier to see Trevor in full. He doesn’t just look upset. He looks… unwell.

My hands clutch my stomach. I