Listen to this piece on episode 15.
It’s tiring. The phone calls. The texts. The DMS. The private messages. The reposts and @ing me. Because of the scandal. Because of the scandal. Because of the scandal. Because of my shame. He’s dead, okay? I did it they say. You want salacious? Well, hey. You get what’s coming to you. Him? An awful day.
I’ve been in the spotlight for so long suntan lotion isn’t working. Sunglasses aren’t shielding. Paparazzi is unyielding. Was I wielding a knife? Was the other woman not his other wife? From a life I knew nothing about. Lies never stay buried even though it wasn’t I who dug the truth out. I should have done that a long time ago instead of the tabloids. Now everyone knows his little secrets and why his timeline has voids. I’m annoyed, seeing that I was supposed to be his one and only. Pundits loved to play the narrative that I was rich, married, and lonely. And was it phony? The love I had for that man? The life we built, the businesses we ran? Our little sunshine, Bella, our gift to the world. My apologies for believing the lies that he twirled.
Now to the point, did I kill him? No, I’m sorry, it wasn’t me. Rumors abound at this midpoint of summer, but my lawyer and I agree. Vindication was forthcoming, but his death only complicates the tragedy. Anger spree? Crime of passion? Did you see leaked photos of his gashes? Stop it, stop it, I’m in grief. Retreating to a far-flung island may be my only relief.
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