My Wife Refused to Sign the Divorce, So I Snapped

When I was eighteen, Faye Ellison burst into my house and stabbed my mother eighteen times.

The police dragged her away, but she turned to the camera and smiled.

“Why should I feel sorry? No one should ever get to control someone just because they call it family. From now on, Chester will finally be free.”

Years later, when she walked out of prison, she found me broke, my résumé tossed aside, a cigarette hanging from my mouth. She snatched it away, threw herself into the Upper Circle, and fought her way up until she was the hard-edged chairman of Ellison Group.