Chapter 3
The next morning, I played my part perfectly.
I came downstairs in the same stained bathrobe.
Hair unbrushed.
Eyes red and puffy from real tears I’d forced myself to cry in the shower.
Brooke was in my kitchen.
Wearing my silk robe.
Drinking coffee from my favorite mug.
The one Ava had made me for Mother’s Day, with her tiny handprint painted on the side.
I stopped in the doorway.
My hand curled into a fist at my side.
She didn’t even look up.
“Ryan said you don’t eat much these days,” she said, flipping a page of my magazine. “I made toast. It’s on the counter. Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your special jam. God knows what germs you’re carrying.”
I said nothing.
Walked past her.
Poured myself a glass of water.
Let my hand shake so badly the water sloshed over the edge.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile.
She loved seeing me weak.
Loved seeing the former Mrs. Ryan Carter reduced to this.
Ryan walked in.
Freshly showered.
Wearing the suit I’d bought him for our tenth anniversary.
He kissed Brooke on the top of the head.
Didn’t even glance at me.
“Did you take your pills, dear?” he asked, his voice dripping with fake concern. “The doctor said it’s very important you stay on schedule.”
He was referring to the sedatives he’d been crushing into my tea every night.
The ones that were supposed to keep me docile.
Keep me from remembering.
Keep me from fighting back.
I’d been spitting them into the potted plant by my bed for two weeks.
The plant was dead.
I was very much awake.
“I took them,” I mumbled, staring at my feet.
“Good girl.” He patted my head like I was a dog. “Brooke and I are going into the city today. We have some… important business to attend to. You’ll be alright here alone, won’t you? Mrs. Henderson from next door is going to check on you around noon.”
Important business.
The insurance company.
They were going to sign the final papers.
Pick up their check.
Seven million dollars.
Split right down the middle.
I nodded slowly.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Try not to burn the house down,” Brooke laughed, standing up. She pressed herself against Ryan. “Or kill yourself. That would be so inconvenient right now.”
Ryan laughed with her.
Laughed.
In my kitchen.
While my children’s handprints were still on the windows.
While their toys were still in the playroom down the hall.
They left twenty minutes later.
I heard the car pull out of the driveway.
Waited until the sound of the engine was completely gone.
Then I moved.
Fast.
Precise.
Every movement planned the night before.
First, I went to Ryan’s home office.
The door was locked.
I jiggled the handle.
Reached into my hair.
Pulled out the bobby pin I’d hidden there.
Twelve years of forensic work had taught me a few things.
Including how to open a standard tumbler lock in under ten seconds.
The lock clicked.
I slipped inside.
His computer was password protected.
I typed in the first password I’d ever seen him use.
AvaEthan01.
The irony made me sick.
It worked.
I dug through his files.
Found what I was looking for.
The original insurance policies.
The forged medical reports he’d used to prove the kids were in perfect health (required for the policy to pay out double indemnity for accidental death).
The emails between him and his crooked insurance agent.
I copied everything to a tiny flash drive I’d taped to the bottom of my shoe.
Then I went to the safe in the back of his closet.
I knew the combination.
12-24-14.
Our wedding anniversary.
Another irony.
The safe swung open.
Inside, I found more than I’d expected.
A second life insurance policy.
This one for five million.
On me.
Dated the same day as the kids’ policies.
My breath caught.
They hadn’t planned to stop with the twins.
I was next.
The “suicide” was already scheduled.
A handwritten note in Brooke’s handwriting, tucked behind the policy, detailed exactly how it would happen.
Overdose of my prescribed sedatives.
Perfectly plausible for a grieving mother.
Scheduled for three days after the insurance check cleared.
They would have twelve million dollars.
And I would be buried next to my children.
I stood there for a long moment.
The paper shaking in my hand.
They’d never intended to let me live.
Never intended to just make me look crazy.
Crazy people can still fight.
Dead people can’t.
I folded the note carefully.
Put it in my pocket with the flash drive.
Then I noticed the gun.
Ryan’s 9mm.
Loaded.
He kept it for “home protection.”
He’d told me once that if anyone ever tried to hurt our family, he’d kill them with his bare hands.
I picked it up.
Weighed it in my hand.
It would be so easy.
Wait for them to come home.
Hide behind the front door.
Two bullets.
Two dead bodies.
Problem solved.
I put the gun back.
That wasn’t the plan.
Killing them would be too quick.
Too kind.
They deserved worse than death.
They deserved to lose everything.
To be publicly ruined.
To rot in a cell together, knowing they’d failed.
Knowing I’d won.
I closed the safe.
Wiped down every surface I’d touched.
Left the office exactly as I’d found it.
Next, I went to the master bedroom.
Brooke’s things were everywhere.
Her underwear in my drawer.
Her makeup on my vanity.
Her perfume on my pillow.
I went through her suitcase.
Found her phone.
Locked, of course.
But I’d brought tools for that too.
Ten minutes later, I was scrolling through her messages.
She’d been talking to someone else.
A man named Marcus.
For a year.
Longer than she’d been with Ryan.
She was planning to leave Ryan the second the check cleared.
Take her half.
Run off to Aruba with Marcus.
And leave Ryan holding the bag when the SEC came for him.
Perfect.
This just got better.
I copied everything.
Every text.
Every photo.
Every plane ticket reservation to Aruba.
Then I planted something.
A single email.
From Brooke’s account to the SEC whistleblower line.
Detailing every dollar Ryan had embezzled.
Every fake company.
Every crime.
Sent it.
Deleted it from her sent folder.
But not well enough.
Any competent IT investigator would find it.
And Ryan would find it first.
When he realized his precious Brooke had been planning to betray him all along?
Their partnership would shatter.
And they’d destroy each other before I even had to lift another finger.
I checked my watch.
They’d be home in two hours.
I put everything back.
Went upstairs.
Changed back into the stained bathrobe.
Climbed into bed.
Stared at the ceiling.
And waited.
May you like
The game had only just begun.
And Ryan and Brooke had absolutely no idea they were already losing.
