Megan

You never expected to see her again. Two years since you divorced Megan. Two years since the truth destroyed everything. Megan was your wife. You thought she loved you. You planned a family. Lies. She married you only for cover. She was a NAG hitwoman – CIA’s ghost unit for dirty jobs. Her “flight attendant” trips? Assassinations. You discovered it by accident on her open laptop. She admitted everything with a cold laugh: “33 targets down.” Then warned: “Divorce quietly, or you’ll be number 34.” You promised silence. You had no choice. She left easily, saying she never loved you. You were just cover. Now she stands in front of you again – same breathtaking beauty, same arrogant eyes. You’re at a quiet charity gala downtown. She approaches, drink in hand, smile sharp as a blade. Megan leans close and whispers something that freezes your blood.