Illusions of Death Read Online Free Page A

client’s coattails is over.”
    Mario said through gritted teeth, “You give me no choice. I cannot afford to live there.”
    Benton sat back, crossing his hands in his lap. “Then sell the property, Mr. Taylor. It should net a healthy profit. You will have a tidy sum in your pocket, and you will be free to pursue your art—and love of women—to your heart’s desire.”
    Mario pushed back his chair and stood. “I will sign,” he spat out. “Anything to be rid of . . . her.” He began pacing the room.
    Benton reached for a different stack. “Here are the papers drawn up as you requested, Karlyn. Let me get my notary.” The attorney reached for the phone and pressed a few numbers. “Yes, now, please.”
    Moments later, a young redhead entered with her registry and stamp. Karlyn noticed Mario’s eyes light up with interest as he assessed the woman. In less than five minutes, all the paperwork had been completed and would be filed. Karlyn watched her ex-husband walk out of the room and her life. For good.
    Benton turned to her. “That was expensive, Karlyn. You were rash to give him so much.”
    She shrugged. “He’ll squander it and then find some rich, older matron to keep him in Prada and Armani. He’s a fair artist with gigolo looks and a flamboyant personality. I don’t think any rumors about what went wrong in our marriage have hurt his career. It steamrolled downhill long before that.”
    “Enough about Mario Taylor. What will you be doing now? I know writing is your salvation.”
    She laughed. “After months of negotiation, I’m starting work on my first screenplay and trying to finish writing a new novel at the same time.” She paused. “I’ll need to find somewhere to live. I’ve been staying at Alicia’s apartment.”
    Karlyn patted Archibald’s hand. “I know you think me foolish, but I need to cut the old ties and usher in my new life.”
    “Well, let me know where to send my bill.” Benton chuckled. “And you promised me a signed copy of your next Matt Collins book.” The lawyer’s face lit up in pleasure thinking about it. “I think every man wants to be Matt Collins.”
    “And every woman wants to sleep with him,” she quipped. She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for everything, Archibald.”
    Karlyn left, her step lighter with the burden of her marriage over. She turned the corner and spotted a Starbucks and decided to grab a coffee.
    She walked in and ordered a grande mocha with a light whip and moved to the side to await her drink.
    Suddenly, someone invaded her personal space.
    Mario.
    She forced herself to stay calm as she looked into his eyes.
    “You are a bitch, Karlyn Campbell,” he ground out. “You write commercial shit. You are not an artist as I am. You crank out worthless drivel. I think so. Your father thinks so. You know we are right. You have no talent.”
    She remained silent. She wouldn’t give into tears. She wouldn’t let Mario get to her. Ever again.
    Nor her father.
    “Grande mocha, light whip,” called out the barista.
    Karlyn stepped around Mario and picked up her drink. Without a backward glance she left the coffeehouse, gripping the cup tightly.
    She flagged a cab and climbed in. “Drive. Anywhere. I need to think.”
    Fortunately, the cabby remained silent as the buildings went by. Tears gathered in her eyes. She kept them at bay as she sipped the hot brew, hoping it would dispel the chill running through her.
    So what if her novels were popular with the public? What was wrong with that? Both Broderick Campbell and Mario Taylor seemed to think it was a crime to make money through her writing. Both denigrated her with cutting words and looks.
    She didn’t care. She loved getting lost in her world of characters. Stories poured from her, and she published two to three novels a year. She didn’t care that she hadn’t won a Pulitzer or National Book Review Award, as her father had on multiple occasions. She didn’t strive to compete with his