My Wife Killed My Best Friend
Language: en
During dinner, Jordan suddenly set her fork down. She looked me straight in the eye and asked, "Who is Clementine Frost?" My hand froze, mid-air. My heart skipped a beat, then hammered against my ribs. Clementine Frost. That was a name Chase and I had invented during a bender one night, a fictional person born from a bottle of cheap bourbon. We’d made a pact: if one of us ever got into trouble—real trouble—and couldn’t be reached, we’d use "Clementine Frost" as a distress signal. Apart from the two of us, no one in the world knew that name existed. And Chase had been missing for exactly…