Perfection

Everyone thought I was married to the perfect man. But if Conall Walsh were perfect, I wouldn’t have killed him. I thought I got away with it until I received an anonymous note at the ballet company I dance for: You were a very bad girl. If you don’t want me to report what I know about last night, meet me at the old opera house after rehearsal. I will tell you the price of my silence when you arrive. If you speak of this or bring anyone with you… no deal. But his price isn’t money. It’s me.