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Insatiable Revenge
A Dr. Olivia C. Maxwell Novel
By
Cynthia Freeman Gibbs
Houston, Texas * Washington, D.C.
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Insatiable Revenge © 2020
Brown Girls Books, LLC
www.BrownGirlsBooks.com
ISBN: 978-1-944359-85-0 (Digital)
978-1-944359-86-7 (Print)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.
First Brown Girls Publishing LLC trade printing
Manufactured and Printed in the United States of America
If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It is reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped” book.
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DEDICATION
Mom, Merilyn Faye Freeman, You are Love.
Thank you for your unending support throughout my journey.
Thank you for instilling in me the love for reading books.
I love you forever.
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The black butterfly represents change, transition, freedom, and rebirth. The associations with death and misfortune can also symbolize the ‘death’ of something bad or negative, or the end of misfortunes. The Butterfly itself is a symbol of death, rebirth, and transformation.
(www.butterflyinsight.com)
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Epilogue
Discussion Questions
Acknowledgments
ONE
Olivia C. Maxwell
San Antonio, TX
2012
The tips of Olivia’s manicured, candy apple red fingernails drummed a cadence on the wooden café table. She glanced out the window and didn’t see the vehicle belonging to Malcolm, her soon-to-be ex-husband, in the crowded parking lot. The time on the cellphone showed her generosity in giving him a chance to arrive. She tossed it in disgust after making the fifth unanswered call in an hour.
“The world does not revolve around him. He has ten more minutes before I’m out of here,” she mumbled.
This local gem of a café in San Antonio attracted a variety of diners who moseyed inside out of the unseasonably cold morning air. Clusters of men and women dressed in military camouflage uniforms mixed in with civilian entrepreneurs enjoyed items from the menu. The sight of couples dining, who have matured together through the years, brought a twinge of longing for everything lost in her waste of a marriage.
Olivia stopped the hammering rhythm of the acrylic nails long enough to raise an oversized ceramic mug of coffee to her lips. She cringed as the lukewarm beverage hit her tongue. Disgusted, she lowered the lipstick-stained cup onto the saucer and slid it away.
Honestly, she didn’t know why she was giving Malcolm a chance anyway. She’d rather bite a rotten, worm-infested apple than have any type of discussion with him.
Maintaining a connection to her husband brought about bitter resentment. He acted as if she owed him something for writing a letter to the judge to get her released after spending thirty days in jail for arson.
The way Olivia considered it; she wouldn’t have set their home on fire last year if he hadn’t cheated. Momentary insanity was why she hadn’t considered the fact that their children, Simone and Christian, were in the house when it became an inferno. She intended to burn only Malcolm to ashes. Grace and mercy allowed everyone to escape without physical harm.
Olivia waved a hand for the waitress, who sauntered to the table and smiled despite puffy, dark circles beneath her eyes. Sleep must have evaded her before an early morning shift.
“Need a refill, ma’am?” She held a silver coffee pot in front of Olivia.
“I would like to get the check,” Olivia said. The tinkling of a bell above the door at the entrance of the café drew her eyes to where Malcolm stood inside.
“Never mind. It looks like the other person has arrived at last. May I get a fresh cup? I think I’m going to need it.”
“Yes, ma’am. No problem. I’ll dump out your cold coffee and bring you a hot one.” The waitress removed Olivia’s mug.
Olivia’s face tightened once she noticed Malcolm making his way through the crowded café toward her. Despite his modelesque face, framed by wavy, ebony hair, only the ugliness of his soul stood out to her. The almond-shaped eyes, which mesmerized her into marrying him, now made her think of them being mirrors of the devil himself. Nothing about Malcolm was good or decent as far as she was concerned.
Olivia centered herself with deep breathing exercises to follow instructions from her therapist. One, two, three…Calm down, Olivia. Don’t let his actions trigger a reaction…four, five, six…I am the captain of my soul...seven, eight…strive to be happy…nine, ten…I got this.
“What took you so long?” Olivia snapped. Everything she’d meditated on flew out the window.
Malcolm’s left eyebrow raised in surprise at her tone. Before sliding into the booth across from her, he took his time removing his black leather jacket as if he were modeling for a photoshoot with a magazine.
If she wasn’t repulsed by him, she would enjoy seeing the ripple of his muscles showing through the Morehouse College sweatshirt and jeans, which fit just right. Women tended to swoon in appreciation of his tall, well-chiseled body. Not Olivia. Her nose scrunched as if a bad odor entered the room.
“And hello to you, Olivia.” Malcolm acted as if he didn’t have a care in the world about being late. “I see you cut your hair. It makes you look thinner. Why are you hiding beneath a hat? Purple is a great color on you.”
Olivia knew Malcolm’s game of distract and deflect. Smart enough to avoid entertaining him with a response, she ignored his so-called compliment.
“You could at least apologize for being more than an hour late. You didn’t even have the decency to call me,” she said.
“Whether you realize it or not, I have things to do today.”
Malcolm threw his hands in front of his chest in defense and shrugged. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I assumed you’d appreciate hearing something nice for a change. You know how traffic on Loop 1604 gets at this time of day.”
“You should’ve considered the
