The Starter Wife Chapter 2

I snatched the penknife out of his hand. ""Don't die just yet,"" I said.

Leo looked at me, surprised, his eyes wide with the expectation of some warm, comforting words. After all, since we were kids, I had practically been his designated therapist.

In preschool, when he wouldn't eat, I’d feed him spoonful by spoonful, cooing, ""Good boy, Leo. Just one more bite.""

In elementary school, my parents left for a research sabbatical in Antarctica, leaving me in the care of his family. From that point on, Leo's dad became my legal guardian, and I, in turn, became Leo's.

That’s when I discovered he couldn't sleep at night without being soothed and told a bedtime story. His parents never had the time, so they handed that monumental task to me. And so, I spent my nights whispering tales of Snow White while holding him in my arms.

To put it bluntly, we went from sharing a crib in diapers to sharing a bed in a wedding dress and a tuxedo.

Leo's father knew his son was unreliable. At eighteen, Leo could barely string ten words together with anyone other than me, let alone be expected to inherit the family business. To ensure I could seamlessly take over the company, his parents pushed us to get married the moment Leo turned legal age.

Before Leo could even process what I was doing, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a brand-new chef's knife from the block.

I started sharpening it right in front of him, the steel gleaming under the lights.

""If you're serious about this, use this one,"" I said, my voice flat. ""Stop trying to scare me with that little toy.""

Leo froze.

His eyes were a mixture of hurt and utter shock.

""Clara, if I died, what would you do?""

I let out a dry laugh. ""Find someone new, I guess.""

Then I turned and walked into the bathroom to take a shower.