LOGIN(Elara's POV)The little bell on the shop door jingled, a sound too bright for the weight in my chest. I stepped into the smell of cut wood, old paper, and the tang of glue. An old man with kind eyes and green stained fingers looked up from a worktable. He didn't speak, just lifted his chin toward the back of the room where a heavy curtain, dark blue and faded, hung across a doorway.My heels clicked on the scuffed wooden floor. The sound felt too loud. I pushed the curtain aside.The back room was small, a cave lit by a single metal shaded lamp hanging over a big worktable. Tools and frames were everywhere. Mark Brennan stood in the far corner, leaning against a tall filing cabinet. He was so still he seemed part of the shadows. He gave me a slow, almost invisible nod.At the table sat a young woman.She was maybe twenty five. She had dark hair pulled into a messy knot, and she wore a simple gray sweater. Her hands were r
(Elara's POV)The bell rang. I stood by my car, keys digging into my palm. The normalcy of it, the minivans, the other moms in yoga pants, the shrieks of kids set free, felt like a thin curtain over a different, dangerous world.Then I saw Nora. My girl, her face lighting up. “Mommy!” That one word pulled me back. I scooped her up, breathing her in. For two seconds, it was just us.“Hey, my love. Frog day, right?” I said, setting her down.“Green frogs!” she confirmed, grabbing my hand.We turned toward the car. That’s when I saw her.Claudia. Leaning against her silver car, sunglasses on, looking like she owned the sidewalk. She wasn’t here for a kid. She was here for me.My stomach turned to ice. I tightened my grip on Nora’s hand. “Keep walking, sweetie.”We were almost past when Claudia moved, stepping smoothly into our path. “Elara. Fancy seeing you here.” Her smile was cold.“It’s not fancy, Claudia. Move.”She
(Elara's POV)Two weeks later, I sat in a cafe, my hands wrapped tight around a paper cup of tea I hadn't tasted. The warmth was just something to hold onto. Across from me, Lydia stirred a spoon in circles through her coffee, the clink-clink-clink the only sign of her nerves. The sound was driving me crazy.We were waiting for Mark Brennan.The door chimed. A man in a plain grey jacket walked in. He had the kind of face you'd forget two minutes after seeing it. Average, clean-shaven, calm. He spotted us and walked over, sliding into the booth beside Lydia with a quiet nod."Elara. Lydia.""Mark," I said, my throat tight. "Thank you for coming.""Silas said it was priority," he said, like that explained everything. He placed a simple manila folder on the table between us. He didn't open it. "Before I show you what's in here, I need you both to understand something. This isn't a theory. This is a reconstruction. I'
(Elara's POV)I laid it all bare. Every ugly bit of it. The deception, the sneaking into James’s study, the key I stole. The story tumbled out of me in a messy, broken heap, right there in our bedroom that smelled like medicine and worry. I left out only one thing—the kiss on the driveway. Some secrets you bury deep, even when you’re confessing everything else.When I finished, the room was too quiet. Just the hiss of his oxygen and the low hum of machines keeping time with my racing heart.He didn’t look shocked. My husband, Silas, the man who could read a profit-and-loss sheet and know exactly where the lie was buried, just looked… focused. The vague, sick-man look in his eyes was gone, burned away by a cold, clear light. He was putting the pieces together, and I could almost hear the click in his head.“Jane,” he said finally. His voice was a dry rasp, but it was his voice. The one that used to give orders t
(Elara's POV)The drive home was a blur of rain and wrong turns. My mind kept replaying it. The kiss. The shove. The cold look on his face after. I took a left when I should have gone right, adding ten minutes to the trip. I didn’t care. I needed the time.My mouth still felt strange. I drank from a old water bottle in the cup holder, swishing the warm water around, trying to wash the memory away. It didn’t work.All I could think about was Silas.Sweet, sick, honest Silas, who was probably lying in our bed right now, listening to the rain against the window. He trusted me. He believed I was at a work meeting, or getting groceries, or doing something normal. Not stealing from my ex. Not letting my ex kiss me.A hard knot of guilt tightened in my stomach. I’d done it for him. For us. To protect him. That’s what I kept telling myself. But sitting in the car, with the taste of betrayal still on my lips, it felt
(Elara's POV)The door clicked shut behind me. That small sound felt bigger than a slam. It was over. I was out. Cool air hit my face but it didn’t clean anything off. I could still feel where the tea had burned my hand. I could still feel Mel’s eyes on my back, picking me apart.My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I shoved them into my pockets, my fingers closing around my keys. And around the other key. The small, cold, stolen one. I had it. I won. So why did I feel like I was going to throw up right there on his perfect driveway?I pulled my keys out and dropped them. The clatter on the stone was stupidly loud. I bent down, my head swimming, and grabbed them. Just go. Just get in the car and go.The front door opened again.“Elara.”His voice. James. I didn’t turn. I couldn’t look at him. I hit the unlock button and yanked the car door open.His hand shot out, holding the top of the door. I was trapped.







