Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem ( Elysia and Tarquin)

When Winona got home, it wasn't even seven yet.

She stood outside, suitcase in hand, staring at the familiar front door-her heart a tangled mess. After more than a year, she was back.

Back again. She, Winona, was back!

She took a deep breath, steadied her nerves, and reached for the door. The face ID scanner blinked red-access denied.

She tried her fingerprint. No luck.

She keyed in her six-digit passcode. Nope. Wrong again.

Winona stood there in five-inch heels, brows drawn tight. It was obvious: Zane had wiped her info, changed the code, locked her out.

He never thought she'd come back. Not even for a second.

Was she hurt? Of course she was. How could she not be?

Once upon a time, she'd loved him for real. He was her first love, her "once in a lifetime," her husband-on paper, at least.

This house? Her parents had paid for their little "American Dream" starter home as a wedding gift. She'd picked out every tile, every paint swatch, every last throw pillow. She'd obsessed over the kitchen backsplash, the hardwood floors, the farmhouse sink. She'd poured her heart, her hopes, her future into this place.

And now? She couldn't even get inside.

What did this marriage ever give her, really?

Just scars-body and soul, inside and out. No mercy, no escape.

Marriage, she thought, is a gamble. Draw a good man, you get happiness. Draw a bad one, you get a nightmare.

Winona inhaled, slow and deep. Time to end the nightmare. She wasn't going to rot in this graveyard of a marriage.

Bam, bam, bam! She pounded on the door.

Inside, Zane and his mom, Priscilla, were probably still asleep after last night's "haunted house" drama-she'd heard the rumors. Finally, Priscilla shuffled out of the guest room, yawning.

"Who the heck is it? You're gonna break the darn door down! If you bust it, you're paying for it-my son spent a fortune on that thing!"

The door swung open. Priscilla blinked-then froze.

Her face soured. She yelled, "What are you doing here, you little witch? My Zane's divorcing you, and the Livingston family is done with you! Get lost! The farther, the better-"

Before she could finish, Winona smacked her. Hard.

Priscilla staggered and fell, eyes wide in shock.

She knew she was no match for Winona, She started wailing. "Zane! That witch is back! She hit your mama again! Get out here and teach her a lesson! Boo hoo hoo."

Winona glared down at her. "You're the ones who need to leave. This house isn't Livingston property-it's Newsom property!"

Priscilla shrieked, “What are you

talking about? This is my son's house! Trying to steal it from us? Over my dead body! You witch! Get back here—you can't come in!"

She lunged for Winona's leg. Winona kicked her off, cold as ice. "Get lost."

All the commotion finally brought Zane out of the bedroom. He took one look at Winona-just her, no one else and relaxed, lips curling into a sneer.

He shut off the house security cameras and WiFi, then looked at his mother. "Mom, close the door. If she's back, she's not leaving again."

Priscilla didn't get it, but she always listened to her son. She scrambled up, grumbling, to slam the door shut.

Winona didn't care. She hadn't come back to leave again.

This was her home. Why should she be the one to go?

If anyone had to leave, it was this lovely mother-and-son duo.

She glared at Zane, emotions swirling in her eyes until all that was left was pure, seething hatred.

Hatred as deep as the ocean.noveldrama

Zane lounged on the couch, looking her up and down. "So, you're done pretending, huh?"