When my shaking ten-year-old begged me to hurry home, I had no idea a nightmare was waiting. I raced inside to find my husband and child cold and motionless on the living room rug. Paramedics rushed in, but the lead officer grabbed my arm, shaking his head. “Ma’am, this wasn’t an accident…”

the bile rising hot in my esophagus. “He holds a one-million-dollar term policy on my life. And a half-million on Leo’s.”

I felt violently nauseated. The man I shared a mattress with. The man who playfully argued with me over television remotes. The man who had kissed my forehead twelve hours ago had been methodically calculating the exact dosage required continue reading …