Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the Kitchen
While Ethan stood paralyzed in the bedroom,
I brushed past him and walked back downstairs.
I wanted to see her.
I wanted to see the woman who thought she could replace me in my own home.
The kitchen was quiet now,
except for the soft,
wet sound of someone cleaning.
Chloe was on her hands and knees,
wiping the floor where the plate had shattered.
She looked small,
delicate,
and entirely calculated.
She didn't hear me enter.
She was humming a song—a soft,
sweet melody that I recognized.
It was the song Ethan used to hum when he was happy.
The realization hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.
She hadn't just taken his money;
she had taken the small,
intimate pieces of our life together.
"You missed a spot,"
I said,
my voice cutting through her humming like a knife.
Chloe jumped,
nearly slipping on the wet tile.
She looked up at me,
her eyes wide and brimming with fake tears.
"Oh!
Mabel...
I’m so sorry about the mess.
I’m just so clumsy when I’m nervous."
I leaned against the kitchen island,
watching her struggle to regain her composure.
"You’re not clumsy,
Chloe.
You’re very precise.
That fall was perfectly timed."
She stood up,
wiping her hands on her expensive silk skirt—a skirt I knew Ethan had paid for.
"I don't know why you’re being so mean to me.
I only wanted to help.
Ethan told me you were lonely."
I laughed,
a cold,
hollow sound that surprised even me.
"Lonely?
Is that what he called it?
He left me for three years,
Chloe.
He didn't leave me alone;
he abandoned me.
And while he was gone,
you were there,
feeding off the crumbs of my life."
She narrowed her eyes,
the "delicate" mask slipping for a fraction of a second.
"He loves me,
Mabel.
He told me he never loved you.
He said the marriage was a mistake from the start."
The words stung,
but they didn't break me.
I had already prepared for the worst things a man could say behind his wife’s back.
"If it was a mistake,
it’s an expensive one for him,"
I replied,
tapping the folder I still held.
"Because in this state,
infidelity combined with the dissipation of marital assets means I don't just get the house.
I get everything.
The stocks,
the retirement fund,
the Chicago condo...
and maybe even a portion of that startup you’re so proud of."
Chloe’s face went pale.
She wasn't looking at me anymore;
she was looking at the folder.
She wasn't a girl in love;
she was a girl looking at a closing bank account.
"He won't let you,"
she whispered,
her voice losing its sweetness.
"He will,"
I said,
stepping closer until I could smell that "unfamiliar sweet scent" on her skin.
"Because if he doesn't,
I’ll take these documents to the board of Vance Global.
I’m sure they’d love to know their star executive was using company funds to renovate a mistress’s home in Ohio."
She gasped,
her hand flying to her throat.
At that moment,
May you like
she didn't look like a victor.
She looked like a thief who had been caught with her hand in the till.
