Author’s Note: This is nothing like my usual, and I don’t want to write a character like this, but she wouldn’t shut up. There. Her story is done.

Her story was by no means unusual. She was not any different from the many who would fall under the same old cliche. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Truth was, she’d known all along that she was the other woman. She’d gone into the relationship knowing exactly who and what he was, so she was not the least bit surprised when she was thrown over for the next in his very long line. She was not so bothered by his lack of fidelity. He was never hers, but she’d used her time with him as best she could.

She regretted the loss of advantage, her source of influence and information, but she would have found another.

The problem was that he’d figured her out. She hadn’t thought he’d put it together, as blind to everything but himself as he seemed to be, but he’d found her secrets and exposed them.

That was what could not be tolerated, could not be allowed. No one betrayed her and got away with it. Infidelity was part of who he was, a flaw she’d exploited, but he’d shown remarkable intelligence in discovering her true intent.

He thought he had the right to be angry, and she had only laughed. He had given in to his selfishness, and he had no one to blame but himself for the position he found himself in.

So he’d called what she’d done treason.

She did not agree, but if he wanted to see it that way, she’d show him treason.

Her lips curved into a grim smile. Yes, she could show everyone what that was like, and she would. Their precious world would never be the same.

She lifted the rifle and took her shot. Then another. She doubted they’d find all the bullets, but her work here was done.

Later, she’d look back on it with regret, one that overshadowed any kind of satisfaction at the skill of her work. She knew there were many possibilities, many ways the world might have been different if the second gunman on the grassy knoll hadn’t been a woman.