She Was Sitting In My Front-Row Seat Holding My Novel — Smiling Like She Had Stolen My Life

it was the physician’s letter.

The doctor’s name was Simon Pell.

I knew him only as Graham’s squash partner.

The letter described my supposed confusion.

My isolation.

My inability to manage complex financial affairs.

It stated that my husband had expressed concern about my vulnerability to exploitation.

I laughed once.

It came out dry and ugly.

Graham had built continue reading …