Her eyes had a blank, dazed look. Her skin was chalk white. She stared at the phone, her head tipped to one side as if she was listening for something. “Mallory?” he whispered. For several seconds she didn’t seem to hear him. Then she lifted her liquid brown eyes to meet his gaze. He could tell that she wasn’t really seeing him. He stepped behind her and grasped her shoulders to steer her back to the table. Like a lifeless doll, she sat when he told her to sit. Hunkering at her feet, he gazed up at her and tried to reconcile this woman with the one who had been so resilient all day, surprising him at every turn. She still hadn’t really cried. A few stray tears, but she hadn’t broken down. He had a feeling that was coming, though—probably soon. How could he have been so wrong about her all these years? Mallory Steele, wife of the promising young attorney, Darren Christiani, the daughter of a wealthy congressman, a woman who had it all.
