The morning after we buried my father, my ex-husband’s new wife walked straight into his garden and told me to begin packing my belongings.

one last insult over her shoulder.

“Oh, and when Mason and I move in, those old rose bushes will be the first thing to go. The whole property needs to feel younger.”

I watched her walk away down the stone path, her pale dress bright against the green hedges.

The anger inside me burned so fiercely I could barely breathe.

Then something beneath the roses continue reading …