Furious by Jeffrey Higgins (top 10 novels to read TXT) 📕

wife had passed away years before and they had no children. I tried to find other family members, but he had no living relatives. I made donations in his name to Boston Pediatric Surgical Center and to a rabies awareness group in Indonesia. I vowed to make those annual gifts to keep his name alive.

Brad’s death devastated his parents, but when I had tried to console them, they pulled away. Maybe they blamed me for what happened or perhaps seeing me reminded them of their loss. Maybe they refused my sympathy, because they had never liked me, never thought I was good enough for their son. They hired a lawyer to enforce the prenuptial agreement I had signed, but I did not need any of Brad’s things. I had been happy to move back into my family’s brownstone in Boston, happy to return to my fellowship, happy to resume my life. I had signed a paper agreeing not to contest the prenuptial agreement and left their house for the last time.

I would never know if Brad had caused Emma’s death. If he had hurt her, he was a monster, and I was not to blame—not a bad mother. If he had killed her, I would hate him forever. I wanted an answer, but that craving could turn into obsession, and either way, Emma was dead, and nothing would bring her back. Maybe it was better not to know.

I had finished my pediatric surgical fellowship six months after I returned to Boston and became a board-certified pediatric surgeon at Boston Pediatric Surgical Center. Eric and I had seen each other every day and spent all of our free time together. He had asked me to marry him a few months later and I had accepted with none of the second-guessing or internal conflict I had experienced with Brad. I knew it was right.

Eric was my soul mate and everything I ever wanted in a man. His kindness and his intelligence reminded me of my father. His passion for helping children and his drive to be the best doctor possible reminded me of myself. We shared a common outlook on life, a rational approach to problem solving, and most importantly, the desire to find happiness and meaning in every moment.

Eric and I had married less than a year after he proposed, and we had twins, Sophie and Spenser, two beautiful, healthy children. They were two years old now, and we planned to give them a brother or sister soon.

We arrived at our SUV and our dog, Treasure, stuck her head through the window. She was the golden retriever I had always wanted, the dog I had dreamed about and thought I would never have. We lived in my family’s brownstone, and I took her for daily walks along Commonwealth Avenue.

Inside the SUV, Spenser and Sophie clung to Treasure and screamed with delight. I belted the kids into their car seats, and Eric drove us downtown to the Boston Public Garden.

We spread our blankets and opened a picnic basket near the lagoon. The trees along the shore hung over the water, their buds open, revealing white and pink flowers. Spenser pointed at two swans floating a few feet away and laughed, with the infectious sound of unbridled joy only a child can make. Sophie ran around the blanket giggling, and Treasure lay beside me watching a flock of ducks paddle across the surface. Eric flashed a loving glance, warming me and filling me with happiness. Only Eric could do that.

My life had changed in four years. Since childhood, I had focused on my career, somehow trying to compensate for the tragic death of my father. My pregnancy with Emma and marriage to Brad had changed my life overnight and made me abandon my identity.

Then came the voyage.

Facing certain death had realigned my priorities and allowed me to gain perspective on my life. I realized my altruistic dedication to saving children was noble, but it had also been a coping mechanism, a way to overcome childhood trauma. Expecting my life to end on that yacht had made me rethink how I would spend the remaining time I had left on earth. I still cared about my career and helping others, but I knew I had to focus on my happiness first, which meant marrying the man I loved, having children, and enjoying every moment.

That voyage had changed everything.

Treasure lifted her head and sniffed the air. The hair on her back stood at attention, and she leapt to her feet, wide-eyed and alert. I thought she would run after the geese or ducks, but she faced away from the pond toward something in the garden.

A horrible growling rumbled behind us—visceral, angry, close. My body turned to ice. I flashed back to the yacht, to the monster.

I whirled around and faced a two-hundred pound mastiff. It stared at Treasure then turned its head toward Sophie, Spenser, and Eric. It curled its lips and bared its teeth. Drool dripped from its fangs.

In my mind, I saw Brad on his knees, hunched over the sailor and eating his intestines. Brad standing below the mast, clawing at the air, waiting for me. Brad with flesh hanging from his mouth. He had died, but the monster would never be completely gone.

Eric jumped to his feet and scooped Spenser and Sophie into his arms, shielding them with his body. Treasure lowered her head, ready to pounce.

A low guttural growl rolled out of the mastiff’s throat and its shoulders tensed.

I planted a foot beneath me and charged the mastiff, waving my hands in the air. The beast turned toward me.

“Get the hell out of here, you bitch,” I yelled.

The mastiff backed up, surprised by my aggression. It turned its head and trotted away with its tail between its legs.

I looked at Eric and he smiled. He set Spenser and Sophie on the grass and they ran to watch the ducks, unperturbed by the mastiff’s attack.

“I thought it was my job to protect