The lock clicked, sealing me in the guest bedroom.
My cheek still stung where Colton had backhanded me. It was a reflex, he claimed—a way to "snap me out of my hysteria" after I slapped Elaine. But the bruise blooming on my skin told a different story.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. My phone was gone. My laptop was gone. I was a prisoner in my own home, guarded by the man I had married and the woman I had called sister.
Hours passed. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long, menacing shadows across the room. My stomach growled, a traitorous reminder that I hadn't eaten since yesterday.
Finally, the lock turned.
Elaine walked in, carrying a tray. She had an ice pack pressed to her cheek, but her eyes were bright, almost triumphant.
"Dinner," she said, setting the tray on the nightstand. It was soup—chicken noodle, my favorite comfort food. Or it used to be.
"I'm not hungry," I said, turning away.
"Oh, come on, Sam," she sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed as if nothing had happened. "Don't be like this. You need to eat. You're looking... gaunt."
"Get out."
"Look," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I know you're upset. But maybe we can work this out? Truce?"
I looked at her. Really looked at her. The woman who had been my maid of honor. The woman who had held my hand while I cried over negative pregnancy tests.
"Truce?" I repeated, incredulous. "You're sleeping with my husband."
"So?" she shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the quilt. "We've shared everything since kindergarten, haven't we? Clothes, makeup, secrets... why not him? We could be a family, Sam. Just the three of us. Like old times."
My stomach churned. The sheer audacity, the casual cruelty of her suggestion made me want to scream. But then I remembered the lawyer's advice. Document. Wait. Survive.
Fighting her now would only get me locked up tighter. Or worse.
I forced myself to take a breath. I forced the bile down.
"You really think that would work?" I asked, my voice trembling but controlled.
"Why not?" Elaine smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes. "Colton loves us both. In different ways, of course. He needs my... energy. But he respects your brain. We balance him out."
I wanted to vomit. But I nodded.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. Maybe... maybe you're right. I'm just tired of fighting."
Elaine clapped her hands together, delighted. "I knew you'd see reason! I'll go tell Colton. He'll be so relieved."
She bounced out of the room, leaving the door unlocked.
Ten minutes later, Colton appeared. He looked wary, searching my face for signs of another outburst. When he saw my calm demeanor, his shoulders relaxed.
"Elaine says you're ready to apologize," he said.
"I am," I lied. "I'm sorry, Colton. I... I don't know what came over me. The stress... I just snapped."
"I know, baby," he said, walking over to hug me. I stiffened but didn't pull away. "It's okay. We're going to fix this. We're going to be a family."
He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket.
"I got you something," he said, opening it. Inside was a diamond necklace. It sparkled under the room's dim light. "To show you how much I love you. A fresh start."
"It's beautiful," I said, letting him fasten it around my neck.
"And I got one for Elaine too," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Since she's been helping out so much."
We went downstairs for dinner. Elaine was already seated, wearing a matching necklace. But as the light caught the stones, I noticed something. Mine had a dull, glassy sheen. Hers refracted the light with the sharp, brilliant fire of real diamonds.
He had given his mistress the real gems and his wife the fake.
I sat down, my hands clenched in my lap.
"To us," Colton toasted, raising his wine glass. "To new beginnings."
"To us," Elaine echoed, clinking her glass against his.
I raised my glass but didn't drink. I picked up my spoon and took a sip of the soup.
It tasted metallic. Bitter.
I took another spoonful, trying to be polite, trying to play the part. But my stomach rebelled instantly. A wave of nausea hit me so hard I doubled over.
"Sam?" Colton asked, his voice distant.
"I... I don't feel well," I gasped, clutching my stomach.
Pain, sharp and searing, ripped through my abdomen. I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, retching.
"Oh my god," Elaine said, but she didn't move to help. She just watched, sipping her wine.
"Call an ambulance!" I screamed, the room spinning. Darkness encroached on the edges of my vision.
Colton hesitated. For a second, I saw him weigh the options. Let me die here, or save me and deal with the mess.
I woke up to the beep of machines. The smell of antiseptic was overwhelming.
My eyes felt heavy, glued shut. I could hear voices nearby.
"Is she dead?" Elaine's voice. Bored. Impatient.
"Stabilized," a man's voice replied. A doctor. "It was a severe reaction. Likely food poisoning or an interaction with her medication."
"Ugh," Elaine groaned. "Bitch is hard to kill."
"Careful," Colton hissed. "Keep your voice down."
"What now?" Elaine asked. "She's going to wake up and blame the soup."
"We'll say it was the stress," Colton said smoothly. "Her body is shutting down. It fits the narrative."
"And the... other thing?" Elaine asked.
There was a pause. A heavy, suffocating silence.
"She doesn't know," the doctor said quietly. "She was eight weeks along."
My heart stopped.
"Was?" Colton asked.
"She lost the baby," the doctor confirmed. "The trauma to her abdomen... the toxicity... her body couldn't hold on."
A baby.
I hadn't known. After three miscarriages, after years of trying, after giving up hope... I had been pregnant. And they had killed it.
Tears leaked from my closed eyes, hot and silent. I didn't move. I didn't scream. I lay there, listening to the monsters discuss my tragedy like a logistics problem.
"Well," Elaine said, her voice devoid of any emotion. "At least that's one problem solved. No heir to complicate the divorce."
"True," Colton agreed. "It's for the best. Let’s just now prepare to finally ruin the bitch at her own birthday party.”
No, I won’t let it happen, because I’ll be sure to be gone before that day.
