Chapter 2
My mother-in-law stood in the doorway.
Diane Mercer still had her purse hanging from one shoulder and a thick folder tucked beneath her arm.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she looked at me.
Not surprised.
Annoyed.
“You’re supposed to be in Chicago.”
That sentence hurt almost as much as seeing Daniel kiss Lauren.
I stared at her.
“You knew.”
Daniel moved toward his mother.
“Mom, don’t say anything.”
Diane ignored him.
Her eyes dropped to the papers in my hands.
“You shouldn’t have opened those.”
I almost laughed.
“They have my name on them.”
Lauren came down the final stair and tightened my robe around herself.
Diane looked at her.
“For God’s sake, Lauren. Change your clothes.”
I felt something inside me turn cold.
This wasn’t a secret affair Diane had accidentally discovered.
She knew Lauren came here.
She knew about the papers.
She even knew when I was supposed to return.
I lifted my phone.
“How long?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“Sarah, put the phone down.”
“How long have all three of you been planning this?”
Diane set her folder on the kitchen counter.
“You’re emotional.”
“Don’t.”
My voice came out sharper than I expected.
“Do not stand in my house and tell me how I’m supposed to feel.”
Diane’s expression hardened.
“This house is exactly what we’re trying to discuss.”
I looked at the forged signature again.
“You forged my name.”
Lauren finally spoke.
“You need to be careful with accusations like that.”
I turned toward her.
“You’re wearing my robe after sleeping with my husband while standing beside a fraudulent deed.”
She went silent.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Nobody forged anything.”
“Then when did I sign it?”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
I held up my phone.
“I’ve been recording since I came inside.”
Lauren’s face changed.
Daniel lunged.
He grabbed for the phone.
I jerked backward.
“Don’t touch me!”
He reached again.
This time Diane shouted.
“Daniel!”
He stopped.
Not because she cared about me.
Because she understood exactly how bad it would look.
I backed toward the rear door.
Diane picked up her folder.
“Sarah, listen to me. Nobody wants this to become ugly.”
I stared at her.
“You helped your son steal my house.”
“You were never going to keep it after the divorce anyway.”
My stomach dropped.
“The divorce?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Mom.”
Diane looked furious with herself.
But the words were already out.
I turned to Daniel.
“You filed for divorce?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
“How was it supposed to happen?”
He said nothing.
Lauren finally stepped forward.
“You were going to receive papers after your trip.”
“And the house would already belong to whom?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Diane.
The folder beneath her arm suddenly mattered.
“What’s in there?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“In my house, everything concerns me.”
I reached toward it.
Diane pulled away.
Daniel moved between us.
That was when I noticed the logo printed on the folder.
Hartwell Interiors.
My company.
My mouth went dry.
I founded Hartwell Interiors nine years earlier.
Three years before I married Daniel.
I built it from a one-room office above a dentist’s practice into a company with twenty-eight employees and projects across four states.
Diane had helped with bookkeeping during our first two years of marriage.
I trusted her because she was family.
I stopped breathing.
“What do you have from my company?”
Diane clutched the folder tighter.
Daniel said quietly, “Sarah, don’t.”
I looked at him.
“What did you do?”
He refused to answer.
I moved toward Diane again.
She stepped backward.
A sheet of paper slipped from the folder and landed faceup on the floor.
Daniel saw it at the same moment I did.
He rushed for it.
I was closer.
I snatched it first.
It was a corporate resolution.
My company logo appeared at the top.
Underneath were words I needed three attempts to understand.
Temporary appointment of Daniel Mercer as acting managing director.
Authorized by Sarah Hartwell Mercer.
My signature was at the bottom.
Again.
A signature I had never written.
I looked at Daniel.
He whispered my name.
I kept reading.
The document claimed I had voluntarily stepped away because of an extended medical leave.
“What medical leave?”
Diane said nothing.
I read the next paragraph.
Daniel had authority to sign contracts.
Access company accounts.
Approve transfers.
Terminate employees.
Negotiate the sale of company assets.
My knees almost gave out.
“The house wasn’t enough.”
Daniel reached toward me.
“Sarah, I can explain.”
I slapped his hand away.
“You were taking my company too.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Then what was it like?”
Lauren spoke from behind him.
“You’ve been gone a lot lately. Daniel has been handling things.”
“I’ve been gone because I’m working.”
I stared at Daniel.
“Building the company you’re trying to steal.”
Diane’s expression hardened.
“You built it while neglecting your marriage.”
There it was.
The justification.
I looked at the woman I had called Mom for six years.
The woman I had taken to chemotherapy appointments when she had a breast-cancer scare.
The woman whose mortgage I had quietly paid for three months after Daniel’s father died.
“You think that means he deserves my business?”
“I think Daniel deserves security.”
“And I don’t?”
“You’ll survive.”
Those two words changed something in me.
Not because they were cruel.
Because Diane meant them.
She had already decided that destroying my life was acceptable because I was strong enough to rebuild it.
Daniel took another step toward me.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You’re not walking out with those recordings.”
I glanced toward the back door.
He noticed.
So did Diane.
Lauren moved toward the kitchen.
They were surrounding me without admitting they were surrounding me.
I suddenly remembered the Uber driver.
He was still outside.
At least I hoped he was.
I pushed past Daniel.
He grabbed my wrist.
I screamed.
“Let go of me!”
The front door flew open.
My Uber driver stood on the porch.
“Ma’am?”
Daniel released me immediately.
I ran.
I didn’t take a suitcase.
I didn’t take clothes.
I didn’t even take my laptop.
I ran barefoot across my own driveway carrying only my phone and the forged corporate resolution.
The driver locked the doors the second I got inside.
Daniel rushed onto the porch.
Diane stood behind him.
Lauren had disappeared.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
My mind was blank.
Then my phone vibrated.
An email notification appeared from Hartwell Interiors.
I opened it.
My company account had been disabled.
Below it was another notification.
A wire transfer for $180,000 had just been initiated from my corporate reserve account.
Authorized by Daniel Mercer.
I stared through the window at my husband.
He was no longer following the car.
He just stood in the driveway.
Watching me leave.
And for the first time that night, I understood something worse than betrayal.
May you like
Daniel hadn’t been planning to leave me.
He had been planning to erase me.
