Save Her by Abigail Osborne (i can read books .txt) π
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- Author: Abigail Osborne
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Save Her
Abigail Osborne
Copyright Β© 2021 Abigail Osborne
The right of Abigail Osborne to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance to the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Print ISBN 978-1-913942-49-6
Contents
Love crime, thriller and mystery books?
Also by Abigail Osborne
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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Also by Abigail Osborne
The Puppet Master
For Elle β my reset button, my best friend
1
Had her mother-in-law not been a cold, manipulative bitch from the first day she met her, Flora was sure she would have been distraught to be responsible for putting her in the hospital. As it was, she could not deny that the only reason she felt guilty was because of the anguish it was causing her husband.
The waiting room was crammed full of people perched on clinical plastic blue chairs. The collective fear of the anxious relatives was palpable and it engulfed her like a thick fog. Her eyes followed her husband as he paced up and down like a metronome. The squeak of his shoes on the linoleum echoed around the room each time he turned, but he was oblivious to it. Lines had appeared on his face that had not been there before tonight. Floraβs heart ached for him. At least when her parents had died it had been quick. There was no agonising wait in a room full of posters warning about the risks of smoking and spotting the signs of cancer.
Flora was ashamed to admit that it had crossed her mind that if Cecelia died her life would change for the better. She banished this thought to the dark recesses of her mind. Usually mild-mannered and warm-hearted, Flora was devastated that she was now capable of such thoughts. That she had developed such a capacity for hate was as a direct result of the war that Cecelia had waged upon her since their first encounter.
It was laughable that Flora had ever thought that Cecelia Cavendish, the matriarch of the million-pound ancestral legacy Cavendish & Sons, was going to willingly welcome an orphan with no social standing into the family. But having lost her parents in a car accident at fourteen, the thought of belonging to a family had been seductive. Hearing Sam wax lyrical about his family had caused the embers of hope to burn. She had even harboured the possibility that she may find a surrogate mother and father figure. Visions of shopping trips, afternoon tea and family dinners had played like a cinema reel in her mind. It hadnβt helped that Sam had shared in her naΓ―vetΓ©. His certainty that his family would accept her and welcome her with open arms prevented her from considering the alternative. The reality.
βSam, honey, come and sit down.β It was a request she regretted immediately as soon as he sat down and his knee began to bounce up and down, shaking not only her seat but the whole row of connected seats. Sending an apologetic glance to the couple sat next to her she wrapped both her hands around his, attempting to calm him. Her two small pale hands were not even close to covering his one large hand. Her gentle giant. To the world, Sam looked like a force to be reckoned with. Intimidatingly tall with perfect blond hair, he looked like heβd stepped off Dragonβs Den. His ocean-blue eyes were never seen without a twinkle. He exuded the easy confidence that came from being born into money and status. But Flora knew that he was so much more than that. He was a man who loved to play PokΓ©mon Go, cried at Love Actually and who loved to walk around in her fluffy pink dressing gown.
βSheβs going to be okay.β
But he ignored her empty words. He stared at the door to the room with such intensity she was surprised it did not burst into flames. She willed the doctor to come through, give them the news they needed so she could get out of this place.
The worst day of her life had ended in a hospital. She tried to ignore the memories, but the sickly smell of disinfectant seeped into her skin like a poison. She dared not breathe through her nose because she knew the memories would overwhelm her if she did.
Sam placed his head in his hands, sighing loudly. She reached out and rubbed his back consumed by guilt and a sense of helplessness. Her husband was a good man. Which was why he had yet to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that it was her fault that his mother was
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