took advantage of you. You were young, and she was a married woman. She initiated the affair. But blame yourself as you desire—in my heart you are clear of fault. But perhaps my feelings for you may be preventing me from wounding your image. Tell me something. Do you love me?”
Her question took me by surprise. “More than I love myself,” I said without hesitation.
“And do you love her ?”
“No, never,” I replied, again taken aback at her question. “I feel a friendly regard for her. Or I used to, before… all of this.”
“Then,” she said as she kissed my temple again, “what else can I do but love you as I have loved you since I met you?”
***
An emotionally unstable Madeleine showed up at our door twenty minutes later. Her cries roused the entire house, but we instructed the servants to leave us alone, assuring them that we would handle it. Charlotte answered the door. Angry, hurt and embarrassed, Madeleine lashed out at my petite wife, still a teenager, blaming Charlotte for her woes.
But Charlotte was no small child.
“You brought this upon yourself. Have you no shame?” Charlotte asked her.
“Corben!” Madeleine yelled over Charlotte’s head, pretending to ignore her. “He will not see me! You must allow me to remain here. Else I will tell everyone .”
She tried to step past Charlotte, but Charlotte grabbed her arm and addressed her in a stern voice. “Madam, behave yourself. Attempt to save your reputation and your family’s. How many more people must find out the kind of woman that you are by you acting this way?”
Madeleine looked shocked and outraged. Without a second’s notice she slapped Charlotte across the face.
But Charlotte’s face didn’t even move .
My wife’s eyes darkened, and before I could reach out to her, before I could even demand Madeleine to apologize, Charlotte returned the slap so hard that I heard a sickening crack as Madeleine’s neck twisted beyond its range of movement, and her entire frame followed, flying sideways. I froze, but Charlotte didn’t stop there. She pounced, then slashed her nails across Madeleine’s neck.
I saw the blood flow down her neck for only a second before Charlotte’s mouth viciously curled around it. And then I couldn’t see anymore.
***
“ Madame is locked in the washroom and does not answer,” Charlotte’s voice drifted to my ears through our bedroom door as I hurried to dress the next morning.
Thierry had finally come looking for Madeleine in the morning after announcing a sudden end to his visit at Brunsfield. My housekeeper, Gulya, roused me to announce him, and a minute after I woke up I was horrified and afraid as the memories from the previous night came rushing back. I hastily got out of bed, noticing that Charlotte was not by my side, and that I looked terrible glancing at my reflection in the mirror on the way out of my room. I had a broken nose, a swollen jaw and bags under both eyes. By the time I was ready to meet Thierry he had already made his way inside my home and was pounding on the door to the guest bathroom, a concerned-looking Charlotte at his side.
“Open the door, Madeleine!” he yelled.
“I am deeply sorry, Monsieur,” she told him. “I should not have allowed her to stay the night, but she was visibly distressed.”
Thierry ignored her and continued to pound on the door, calling his wife’s name in vain. I knew Madeleine would not answer.
After witnessing Charlotte’s attack, I had turned away from the gruesome scene. I had no idea what Charlotte had done with the body afterwards; whether Madeleine was indeed in the bathroom or buried in the woods behind our house. And even if her body was in the bathroom, how were we to explain the ghastly wound in the neck?
“Thierry,” I started to say cautiously behind him. But then I stopped because I had no idea what I could say to him. Get ready to see something shocking ? My wife ripped the neck off of yours ?
Her question took me by surprise. “More than I love myself,” I said without hesitation.
“And do you love her ?”
“No, never,” I replied, again taken aback at her question. “I feel a friendly regard for her. Or I used to, before… all of this.”
“Then,” she said as she kissed my temple again, “what else can I do but love you as I have loved you since I met you?”
***
An emotionally unstable Madeleine showed up at our door twenty minutes later. Her cries roused the entire house, but we instructed the servants to leave us alone, assuring them that we would handle it. Charlotte answered the door. Angry, hurt and embarrassed, Madeleine lashed out at my petite wife, still a teenager, blaming Charlotte for her woes.
But Charlotte was no small child.
“You brought this upon yourself. Have you no shame?” Charlotte asked her.
“Corben!” Madeleine yelled over Charlotte’s head, pretending to ignore her. “He will not see me! You must allow me to remain here. Else I will tell everyone .”
She tried to step past Charlotte, but Charlotte grabbed her arm and addressed her in a stern voice. “Madam, behave yourself. Attempt to save your reputation and your family’s. How many more people must find out the kind of woman that you are by you acting this way?”
Madeleine looked shocked and outraged. Without a second’s notice she slapped Charlotte across the face.
But Charlotte’s face didn’t even move .
My wife’s eyes darkened, and before I could reach out to her, before I could even demand Madeleine to apologize, Charlotte returned the slap so hard that I heard a sickening crack as Madeleine’s neck twisted beyond its range of movement, and her entire frame followed, flying sideways. I froze, but Charlotte didn’t stop there. She pounced, then slashed her nails across Madeleine’s neck.
I saw the blood flow down her neck for only a second before Charlotte’s mouth viciously curled around it. And then I couldn’t see anymore.
***
“ Madame is locked in the washroom and does not answer,” Charlotte’s voice drifted to my ears through our bedroom door as I hurried to dress the next morning.
Thierry had finally come looking for Madeleine in the morning after announcing a sudden end to his visit at Brunsfield. My housekeeper, Gulya, roused me to announce him, and a minute after I woke up I was horrified and afraid as the memories from the previous night came rushing back. I hastily got out of bed, noticing that Charlotte was not by my side, and that I looked terrible glancing at my reflection in the mirror on the way out of my room. I had a broken nose, a swollen jaw and bags under both eyes. By the time I was ready to meet Thierry he had already made his way inside my home and was pounding on the door to the guest bathroom, a concerned-looking Charlotte at his side.
“Open the door, Madeleine!” he yelled.
“I am deeply sorry, Monsieur,” she told him. “I should not have allowed her to stay the night, but she was visibly distressed.”
Thierry ignored her and continued to pound on the door, calling his wife’s name in vain. I knew Madeleine would not answer.
After witnessing Charlotte’s attack, I had turned away from the gruesome scene. I had no idea what Charlotte had done with the body afterwards; whether Madeleine was indeed in the bathroom or buried in the woods behind our house. And even if her body was in the bathroom, how were we to explain the ghastly wound in the neck?
“Thierry,” I started to say cautiously behind him. But then I stopped because I had no idea what I could say to him. Get ready to see something shocking ? My wife ripped the neck off of yours ?
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