Amy Payne POV:
I watched Kloe, draped in her blanket, her eyes darting between Gonzalo and me. The way she played the victim, the innocent little lamb, made my stomach churn. She was a master manipulator, and Gonzalo, my brilliant Art History PhD student husband, was falling for it hook, line, and sinker.
"You know, Kloe," I said, my voice deliberately even, "this house actually has a pretty state-of-the-art security system. Cameras everywhere. Inside and out."
Kloe's pale face went even paler. Her eyes widened, and she looked at Gonzalo, a flicker of panic replacing her feigned innocence. "Cameras? Inside?"
Gonzalo glared at me. "Amy, what are you talking about? Why would you bring that up?"
I shrugged, a small, insincere smile touching my lips. "Just a friendly reminder. For everyone's peace of mind, you know? It's good to be aware of your surroundings. Especially in a new place." My gaze lingered on Kloe. "Wouldn't want anything... unexpected... to be recorded, right?"
Kloe's lips thinned. She looked away, her perfectly styled "wellness influencer" composure finally cracking. Gonzalo, sensing the tension, stepped between us.
"Alright, alright," he said, rubbing his temples. "This is ridiculous. Kloe, Amy is just being... Amy. She means well." He turned to me, his voice strained. "Amy, we don't need to discuss the house's security system right now."
I just nodded, still holding Kloe's gaze. The message was clear. Any "unpredictable" behavior would be caught on tape.
Gonzalo sighed, a long, suffering sound. "Look. Neither of you needs to move rooms. I'll just sleep on the floor between both doors, okay? That way, Kloe won't be alone, and you'll still have your room, Amy. Everyone happy?"
I gave a slow, sarcastic clap. "Brilliant, Gonzalo. Truly brilliant."
Kloe mumbled something under her breath, a reluctant agreement. She still looked shaken.
So, Gonzalo ended up sprawled on an air mattress in the narrow hallway, a flimsy barrier between his wife and his 'mentee'. I heard him tossing and turning for a long time that night. I didn't sleep much either. My mind was racing, replaying seven years of my life, paying for his education, his lifestyle, his very existence. And this was my reward.
The next morning, the sun streamed through my bedroom window, mocking the chill that still held my heart. A knock. It was Gonzalo.
"Amy? Are you awake?" he called, his voice muffled through the door.
"Now I am," I mumbled, pulling myself out of bed.
He pushed the door open, a hesitant smile on his bruised face from sleeping on the floor. "Morning, Captain. Could you... make us some breakfast? Kloe needs to eat something light for her condition."
My eyebrow twitched, but I said nothing. I walked into the kitchen, the air still uncomfortably warm despite the early hour. I made oatmeal, a simple, healthy choice. I set three bowls on the table.
Kloe appeared moments later, dressed in a silk robe, smelling faintly of expensive perfume. She glanced at the oatmeal. Her nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly.
"Oh," she said, her voice a little too loud, "oatmeal. I'm not really used to... savory breakfasts."
I picked up my spoon, stirring my bowl. "Savory?" I asked, looking up at her. "It's plain oatmeal. With a little honey. What kind of breakfast are you used to, Kloe? Instant ramen and energy drinks back in your village?"
Her face, usually so carefully composed, flushed a deep red. "I... I just meant, I prefer lighter, fresher things. I'm not really accustomed to... heavier fare."
I took a slow spoonful of my oatmeal, savoring the bland warmth. "Right. From your village in, what was it, rural Idaho? I distinctly remember you telling me you grew up on canned peaches and instant mash. Funny how quickly people forget their roots when they start building a 'wellness' brand."
"You're being rude, Amy!" Kloe snapped, her soft voice gone. "You're always trying to make me feel small!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Is that what I'm doing? I thought I was just stating facts. And speaking of small, isn't it interesting how people who claim to have delicate conditions always seem to manage to be so... loud?"
The doorbell rang, a welcome interruption. Gonzalo practically leaped to answer it. He returned a moment later, holding a large takeout bag.
"Surprise, Kloe," he said, his voice brimming with false cheer. "I ordered you some avocado toast and a green juice. Hope that's light enough for your delicate constitution."
Kloe's face lit up, and she shot me a triumphant smirk. "Oh, Gonzalo, you're the best! You just know what I like."
She took the bag, pulling out the expensive, freshly made food. "See, Amy? Gonzalo really takes care of me."
After breakfast, Kloe started pulling out clothes for our planned ski trip to Aspen. She held up a flimsy, brightly colored ski jacket. It was clearly more fashion than function.
"What do you think, Gonzalo?" she asked, twirling in front of him. "It's so chic, right? Perfect for photos."
He frowned. "It's beautiful, Kloe, but it looks a little thin. Are you sure it'll be warm enough? You get cold so easily."
"Oh, I'll be fine," she waved him off, then shot me a side-eye. "It's all about the aesthetic, Amy. Can't sacrifice style for practicality, can we?"
I just hummed, a noncommittal sound. She was purposefully wearing an impractical coat, knowing fully well she'd inevitably 'get cold'. This was another one of her games. I decided then and there that I would just watch them. Let them play out their little charade.
We packed the car. Despite Kloe's flimsy jacket, she insisted on riding shotgun. "Oh, I get so carsick in the back," she whined, already halfway into the passenger seat.
Gonzalo, of course, backed her up. "Amy, you don't mind, do you? Kloe needs to be comfortable. Her condition, you know."
Kloe leaned out the window, a sugary sweet smile on her face. "And Gonzalo's front seat is always just for me. It's our little tradition, right, Gonzalo?"
I just let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Whatever makes you happy, Kloe." I got into the back seat, buckling up. My gaze lingered on their reflections in the rearview mirror. I just needed to watch them. Really watch them.
