I balanced the custom fondant cake in one hand and pushed the heavy oak door open with my hip.
Six years of marriage to Eason. Five years since I walked into the dean's office and permanently withdrew from my advanced topology PhD program.
I traded complex equations for baking schedules. I swapped academic conferences for parent-teacher meetings. All for my family. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of that life.
"Eason, I'm home ear—"
The words died in my throat.
The cake slipped from my fingers. It hit the hardwood floor with a wet thud, frosting splattering across the expensive Persian rug.
My husband lay tangled in the center of our king-sized bed.
Beneath him was Sarah. My sister-in-law.
Sarah let out a high-pitched shriek. She yanked the silk sheet up to her collarbone, angling her neck just enough for the bedside lamp to hit it. A fresh, dark purple bruise stood out against her pale skin.
"Penny!" Sarah whimpered, pressing her face against Eason’s bare chest. "I didn't know you'd be back from the market so soon."
My hands turned to ice. My throat tightened so hard it ached.
"Get out of my bed," I whispered.
Eason didn't scramble. He didn't apologize. He simply sat up, his broad shoulders shielding Sarah from my view.
"Lower your voice," Eason snapped. "Don't scare her. I initiated it."
"You initiated it?" My voice cracked. "In our bedroom? On our anniversary?"
"It just happened." He ran a hand through his messy hair, annoyed. "Don't make this a bigger deal than it is."
"A bigger deal?" I pointed a shaking finger at the woman cowering behind him. "She's your brother's widow! You brought her into our home two months ago because you said she was grieving!"
"She needed a place to stay," Eason argued, his tone flat. "You're overreacting as usual."
"I'm looking at my husband naked with another woman!" I screamed. "How is this overreacting?"
Footsteps slapped against the hallway floor.
"Daddy!"
Five-year-old Jasper squeezed past my legs, completely ignoring my presence. He bounded toward the bed and threw his little arms around Sarah.
"Careful, sweet boy," Sarah cooed, stroking his cheek.
"Daddy," Jasper beamed, looking up at Eason. "Are you finally going to marry Sarah Mommy?"
The room spun. *Sarah Mommy.*
"Jasper," I choked out, reaching my hands toward him. "Come here to Mommy. Real Mommy."
Jasper shrank back, burying his face in Sarah’s shoulder. "No! You always make me do math and eat vegetables. Sarah Mommy lets me eat ice cream for dinner and play video games."
I stared at the boy I had spent five years raising. The child I gave up my entire future for. He looked at me like I was a strict nanny, not his mother.
"Who taught him to call you that?" I demanded, glaring at Sarah.
Sarah sniffled, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "Penny, please don't be mad at the boy. I was just so lonely after my husband passed. Jasper and Eason... they just made me feel like I had a family again."
"A family?" I took a step forward, my fists clenched at my sides. "You stole mine! You manipulated my son!"
"I didn't do anything!" Sarah cried, hiding her face in Eason's neck. "Eason, make her stop yelling at me."
Eason threw the covers off, standing up in his boxers. He stepped right into my personal space, his jaw set tight.
"Stop making a scene, Penny," he ordered. "You're acting unhinged."
"I'm unhinged? You're destroying our marriage!"
"What marriage?" Eason scoffed. "Look at yourself. You're just a housewife. You spend all day in sweatpants smelling like garlic and laundry detergent. You haven't worn makeup in months."
The cruelty in his words stripped away the last of my warmth.
"I gave up my PhD for you. I was top of my class. I stayed home so you could build your startup without worrying about childcare!"
"And I pay the bills," he shot back, stepping closer until I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes. "Without me, you're nothing. You have no money, no degree, no career. You'd starve on the streets."
"You used to tell me my brain was my best feature," I whispered, the memory tasting bitter on my tongue. "You begged me to help you with your financial models when you started the company."
"That was five years ago," Eason dismissed. "Now you can barely figure out a grocery budget. Sarah actually understands my business. She listens to me."
"Because she wants your money!"
"She wants me," Eason corrected. "Something you forgot how to do a long time ago."
"You think I can't survive without you?" I asked, my voice trembling with rage.
"I know you can't," Eason sneered. "If you want to walk out that door, go. But you won't take a dime. And you definitely won't take Jasper."
"You won't keep my son from me. I'll fight you in court."
"With what money?" Eason laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "I have the lawyers. I have the accounts. What do you have? Apologize to Sarah, and maybe I'll let you sleep in the guest room tonight."
"I'd rather sleep in hell."
I spun around and marched toward the armchair to grab my leather tote bag.
Sarah suddenly scrambled out of bed, wrapping a thick robe around herself. She rushed over, blocking my path to the chair.
"Penny, wait, let me help you get your things," Sarah cried, her hands darting toward my open bag.
"Get away from my stuff!" I shoved her aside and snatched the tote.
Sarah stumbled back, clutching her chest as if I had struck her with a baseball bat. "Eason, she hurt me!"
"Penny, get the hell out!" Eason roared.
I didn't look back. And in my blind rage, I completely missed the heavy diamond necklace Sarah had just slipped into the side pocket of my tote. The trap was already set. She was going to make sure I left this house as a thief, not just a discarded wife.
"You'll regret this, Eason," I said, my voice eerily calm.
"Close the door on your way out," he replied, turning his back to me to pick up Jasper.
I ran down the sweeping staircase, out the front doors of the manor, and into the freezing night air.
Tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, blurring the streetlights. Five years. A lie. My son, my husband, my home—gone.
I dragged my feet along the paved driveway, shivering in the evening wind. The cold bit through my thin sweater, but the chill in my chest was worse.
Just beyond the tall iron gates, a sleek black Rolls-Royce sat idling by the curb.
The tinted rear window hummed down.
A man sat in the shadows of the backseat. The streetlamp caught the sharp angle of his jaw and the piercing intensity of his dark eyes.
He didn't look away as I wiped my face. He just watched me.
"Sir," the driver's voice drifted from the front seat. "Should we intervene?"
The man in the back adjusted his cuffs, his gaze never leaving my retreating figure.
"Not yet," he murmured, a dangerous edge to his tone. "Let her hit rock bottom. Then, she'll have no choice but to accept my offer."
