Then, she turned on me, anger sparking.
“This is your husband! How did you let him…”
My throat tightened. “I was… no one. His housekeeper. His cook. His crisp white sheets. That’s it.”
Laura stared at me. “Then we punish them both. You’re not the only one he made a fool of.”
We sat in the big guest room. Mark turned off the lights. The house fell silent. I clutched my phone tight. Next to me, Laura’s perfume smelled expensive and furious.
[Wednesday, 7:48 p.m.] Voice recording 499:
“Waiting in the dark. They think they’re coming home to romance. We’ve prepared something better.”
Suddenly, keys rattled. A low laugh. A hush. Whispered words like silk. We heard them shuffle into the living room. Bags dropped. Shoes kicked off.
That’s when Mark flicked on the lamp. One harsh yellow glow like a prison spotlight. Laura stood up first. Her voice sliced the room in half.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart. Hope you’re proud.”
The girl froze. Kevin’s arm dropped from her shoulder so fast it looked like he’d been burned.
“Mom…”
“Don’t. Not a word.”
Kevin’s mouth opened, but the words tumbled out uselessly.
Laura laughed. “You were going to use my house for your filthy game? My money to run away? You’ll see a single cent from me the day pigs fly.”
I stood up too. “I have all your sweet promises, Kevin. On tape. And your lawyer will explain our prenup in detail, the one you thought I’d never read.”
Kevin’s face turned chalky.
“You wouldn’t…”
“Oh, I would. Adultery means you get nothing. And that ten-thousand-dollar penalty clause? You can pay it to me in monthly checks. From your precious savings.”
Laura turned to her daughter.
“And you. No college money. No rent. No car. Go live with your ‘grown-up boyfriend’ if you love him so much. See how long he keeps you when he’s broke.”
I looked at Mark. He didn’t smile. He just nodded once — father to mother to wife.
And we finally left the house. I didn’t want to go home yet. Not while my almost-ex was there, stuffing shirts into suitcases he’d once ordered me to iron.
So Mark offered me coffee. Just strong, cheap coffee in a paper cup — and ten minutes of not feeling like a ghost.
[Wednesday, 7:59 p.m.] Voice recording 500:
“Guess revenge does taste better than lemon tart. Note to self: when you ever need a partner in crime, pick someone who hates lies as much as you do.”
