Page 87 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

For one second, nothing makes sense. Then memory crashes back all at once.

Bianca.

The man with the syringe.

The third man.

My heart starts racing. This wasn’t intimidation.

I force myself upright.

The movement sends a violent wave of nausea crashing through me.

Around me, flames are already climbing the walls.

I stagger to my feet.

“Help!”

My voice vanishes beneath the blaring alarms.

I run toward the main door. I can’t get close. The flames have already swallowed it whole.

Panic slams straight into my chest.

No.

“Help me!”

Smoke floods my lungs. I cough violently.

The heat becomes unbearable.

I stumble backward, choking.

Through blurred eyes, I spot the rear service exit.

The door he came through.

I run toward it, stumbling.

My fingers wrap around the handle.

Locked.

The door is locked.

A panicked sob escapes me.

Desperately, I scan the room and spot the sliding window leading outside.

I stagger toward it.

The window slides open easily.

Freezing air from the Seine immediately slams into my face.

Behind me, the flames roar louder.