The laughter from downstairs still clung to me when I found Claire waiting in the upstairs hall. She lounged against a guest room doorframe, champagne glass in hand, as if the house were hers.
“You really don’t see it, do you?” she asked, her smile edged with pity.
My stomach knotted. “See what?”
“How far you’ve fallen.” Her gaze swept over me—my plain dress, my trembling fingers—before landing on my face. “Matthew used to call you his whole world. Now he can’t even be bothered to look at you.”
The words hit like glass splintering in my chest. “That’s not true.”
Claire’s laugh was soft and merciless. “Oh, Evelyn. I’m his confidante. The things he tells me… you’d break if you knew.”
I tried to move past her, but her hand shot out, nails biting into my wrist. She leaned close, her whisper hot and poisonous.
“Do you know why, after three years, you’re still childless?”
Ice flooded my veins.
“Because he doesn’t want one with you.” Her breath brushed my ear. “He told me himself—he can’t imagine tying himself to you like that. But with me? He dreams of legacy. Of an heir. My heir.”
I ripped my arm free, tears stinging my vision. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Her head tilted, smirk curling. “Why do you think he’s always working late? Why he never makes it home for anniversaries? He doesn’t love you, Evelyn. He loves me. And soon everyone will know it.”
Grief and rage collided inside me. Before I realized it, I shoved her.
Claire stumbled, gasping theatrically, then collapsed onto the rug with a cry just as heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“Claire!” Matthew’s voice thundered. He rushed into the hall, eyes snapping to her crumpled form—then to me, standing above her.
“What the hell did you do?!” His glare sliced through me, so fierce my knees nearly buckled.
“I didn’t—she—”
“Matthew,” Claire whispered, her voice trembling with perfect fragility. She clung to his sleeve like a drowning woman. “Don’t be angry with her. She didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have provoked her.”
The portrait of innocence.
“Provoked? She pushed you!” Matthew snarled, rounding on me. “Are you out of your mind?!”
“No!” My voice cracked. “She’s twisting everything, I swear—”
But already guests were gathering, phones raised, whispers cutting into me like blades.
Matthew bent and scooped Claire into his arms as if she were porcelain. Bile surged in my throat. He shielded her, defended her—against me, his wife.
“Let’s just go,” Claire sobbed into his chest. “She’s my best friend. I don’t want her humiliated.”
Matthew’s jaw clenched, his fury barely contained. “Evelyn. With me. Now.”
He herded me down the hall into a small storage room—once my sanctuary. Now it was stuffed with Claire’s abandoned shopping bags and boxes.
“First aid’s in the back,” Claire murmured sweetly, eyes glinting when Matthew couldn’t see. “Fetch it for me.”
“Why are you even humoring her?” Matthew snapped. “Do it. The least you can do after attacking her.”
Tears blurred my vision as I dug through the clutter, my hands shaking. When I returned, Claire was sprawled across the bed, head nestled against Matthew’s shoulder, her sniffles delicate as glass.
He turned to me, his eyes blazing. “Kneel. Apologize to her. Now.”
I froze.
“I won’t.”
His voice dropped, dangerous. “What did you just say?”
“I said I won’t.”
Rage twisted his face. He shoved me down, and my knees cracked against the floor. Pain shot through me, sharp enough to steal my breath. Instinctively, I clutched my stomach.
“You can’t even show basic respect!” His words lashed like a whip. “No wonder no one loves you. Even if you had everything Claire has, you’d still be unwanted.”
“Matthew!” My cry tore from me, raw and broken.
Claire dabbed her eyes with a tissue, her voice soft, trembling with false guilt. “Don’t be too harsh. It’s my fault—I’ve taken too much. Your time, your affection. She’s bound to resent me.”
Her humility only fanned his fury. “You deserve none of this, Claire. Evelyn is the one humiliating you.”
The world tilted. My husband’s loyalty was hers now, not mine.
“Please, Evelyn,” Claire murmured, her hand resting lightly on Matthew’s chest. “He didn’t mean it. He just lost his temper.”
Something inside me snapped. My scream ripped out, sharp as broken glass. “Shut up! Shut up with your fake crying!”
The room froze.
The crack of Matthew’s palm split the silence. Pain seared across my cheek, the sting burning deep. But worse was the betrayal in his eyes, colder than the blow itself.
My hand trembled against the heat of my skin. Tears blurred the room, metallic blood sharp on my tongue.
And for the first time, I wondered if the Evelyn who once believed in love had already died.
