After His Betrayal, My Husband Begged Not to Divorce

When Lyndon came to pick me up for the concert, he introduced the woman in the passenger seat.

"This is Claire. I've mentioned her before—you should call her 'younger sister.'"

Oh, so she was the woman everyone in the circle gossips about. The one all the society wives were waiting to use as ammunition to laugh at me.

She was wearing a cheap dress, color washed out from too many hand-washes, yet she still managed to lift her chin with delicate, self-important arrogance.

I forced out a greeting. "Hello, sis."

She answered softly, "Hi."