Page 88 of Relentless

“No more jets, Harper,” he replied, giving a callous laugh. “No speaking tours, no books, no yachts — you’re out.”

Harper glanced at the cloudy sky, her brain scrolling with sharp insults. None of it was new, she had heard it all before. She had played him like a fiddle for so long, she had practically memorized the song and dance.

“Shep,” she calmly responded, pivoting to rationalize with him as though she were speaking to a child.

“We’ve been over this a million times,” she stated. “Your career depends on the approval of the Elders, and they will never appoint a divorced man to lead the church — especially one that’s built onmyfamily’s legacy.”

It annoyed her that she constantly had to remind him of his place.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Shepard replied, sounding as satisfied as the cat who had swallowed the canary. “The elder board is behind me on this, you worthlesstwo-bit—” he paused.

Harper heard the muffled sound of his palm covering the speaker. She rolled her eyes, hearing his entire tone lighten while he spoke to the person who had entered the room.

“Yes, I’ll be there in a moment,” he crooned. “Thank you for your faithfulness, Brother Davis.”

There was a nauseating quiver in his tone.

“My fiery trials have finally come to an end,” he professed, “and the Lord has once again set my feet on solid ground.”

His hand slipped off the speaker.

Shepard lowered his voice to whisper, signaling his pleasure in finally putting Harper in her place.

“Onlyoneof us publicly admitted to adultery, Harper —”

He savored every word like a juicy morsel.

“And itwasn’tme.”

“Shep, don’t be a moron!” she exclaimed, hearing him end the call. “Shep!”

A cry escaped as her phone slipped from her shaking fingertips. Her hand went to her necklace, flipping the smooth pearls around in her fingertips while she envisioned her entire future evaporating.

How she hated that man with every fiber of her being, yet she knew —

Without Shepard Davenport, there was noHarper.

The book deals, speaking engagements, audiences of faithful followers, she had nothing without the charming husband by her side.

Stooping down into the snow to retrieve her phone, she swiped the gritty shards of salt and ice from the screen. Tapping out a quick message to Delia, her frozen, stiff fingers jumbled the letters.

She slammed her thumb down to delete it all and start again.

Harper — typing…

We’ve got to talk some sense into Shep.

The message was immediately markedread.

Harper — typing…

Delia, please.

Read.

She began to pace, feeling the snow crunching under her boots. “She’ll get back to me,” she reassured herself. “Delia owes me — theyallowe me.”

Thumbing through her social media feed, she noticed a recent post from Pacific Crest Church regarding an upcoming announcement,

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