The Betrayal

‎Sarah

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‎Three months later, I was watching my own funeral from the back of a church I didn't believe in.

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‎I wore a dark wig, oversized sunglasses, and a black dress that made me invisible. The mourners were mostly people I'd never seen before Marcus's business associates, his family, people who wanted to be photographed looking sad for social media.

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‎The church smelled like lilies and old wood. That heavy floral smell made my stomach turn. Someone—probably Victoria had picked these dark purple flowers.

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‎Victoria sat in the front row, her hand on Marcus's shoulder. She was wearing black Chanel, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her makeup was perfect despite the fact that she was supposedly devastated by her best friend's death.

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‎She looked fucking thrilled.

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‎Marcus was playing the grieving husband perfectly. His eyes were dark, his hand trembled when the priest asked people to share memories. When he stood to speak, his voice cracked at exactly the right moments.

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‎"Sarah was the love of my life," he said, and I felt bile rise in my throat. "She was brilliant, talented, beautiful. And I was so focused on my career that I didn't appreciate her the way I should have. I'll regret that for the rest of my life."

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‎The crowd ate it up. People cried. Victoria cried hardest of all her eyes filled with tears, though she never wiped them. Can't mess up that makeup. She was looking at Marcus with this expression of pure sympathy and like she wanted to eat him alive. 

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‎I couldn't move. My hands were shaking so hard I had to grip the back of the pew in front of me to stay steady. The wood was cold under my fingers, real in a way nothing else was right now. Around me, people were reaching for tissues, nodding like Marcus had just said something true instead of a complete lie. The smell of flowers was making me dizzy too,  too thick in the air. I wanted to scream. I wanted to run down that aisle and rip that sad expression off his face. I wanted to grab Victoria by her perfectly styled hair and tell everyone exactly what she was.

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‎But I couldn't do any of that. Not yet.

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‎I watched Marcus's shoulders shake like he was holding back sobs. I watched him grip the podium so hard his knuckles turned white. And I realized that he was actually good at this. He wasn't just pretending. Some part of him believed his own story. Some part of him had convinced himself that he was the victim here, that I was the problem, that my death was a fucking solution instead of a crime.

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‎The priest was talking now about my "vibrant spirit" and how I was "taken too soon." People nodded along. An older woman I'd never seen before was openly sobbing. I wondered what story Marcus had told her. What lie had made a complete stranger cry for me.

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‎I scanned the crowd and tried to spot anyone who actually knew me. My parents were dead. I had no siblings. My few close friends had fallen away over the years because Marcus didn't like them. Because Victoria had decided they weren't cool enough. Because I'd let her decide that for me.

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‎That was my mistake. And now there was no one here who could tell these people the truth.

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‎After the service, I followed them.

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‎My Range Rover the real one was parked three blocks away. I'd kept a low profile for the past three months, staying with Diane in a small apartment in Oakland, nursing my pregnancy in secret, and planning my revenge.

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‎Now it was time to see exactly what they'd been doing while I was supposedly dead.

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‎Victoria's apartment was in SoMa, a trendy loft that I recognized immediately. It was furnished in exactly the same style I'd chosen for Marcus's office modern minimalist with pops of color, statement lighting, the whole vibe that had made my interior design business so successful. My taste. Stolen and replicated in my best friend's home.

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‎Through the window, I watched them,

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‎they didn't even wait to get to the bedroom. They started fucking right there on the Italian leather couch the same brand I'd chosen for our penthouse, the same shade of grey with my best friend laughing and pulling at Marcus's clothes like she couldn't wait to touch him.

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‎"I can't believe she's finally gone," Victoria said, straddling his lap. "I was starting to think this would never happen."

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‎"Patience," Marcus said, running his hands down her back. "I told you, once the baby was born..."

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‎My blood went cold.

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‎"...I'd find a way to get rid of her. But then she crashed. It was like the universe was helping me out."

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‎Victoria kissed him hard, “Don’t say that,” Victoria murmured, though she was smiling. “It’s bad luck.”

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‎“What?” Marcus chuckled, his hands tightening on her hips. “That the universe finally sided with me for once? That my pregnant wife who was starting to ask too many questions conveniently drives off a cliff? It’s not bad luck, Vic. It’s destiny." 

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‎I felt rage building inside me. He'd known. He'd fucking known I was going to get pregnant. He'd known and he'd planned to—what? Push me down the stairs? Stage another accident once the baby was here?

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‎"What about the business?" Victoria asked, pulling back slightly. "Is it really worth that much?"

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‎"Forty million," Marcus said. "Maybe more. We'll dissolve Bennett & Associates and merge it with my firm. You'll be a partner. We'll be unstoppable."

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‎Forty million. The company I'd built from scratch with my own two hands, literally from my apartment with a laptop and a dream. I'd turned interior design into an empire. And this asshole had been planning to steal it the entire time.

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‎Victoria stood and stripped off her clothes. She was beautiful in a conventional way blonde, thin, with the kind of body that I*******m worshipped. But as I watched her straddle Marcus again, as I watched her bounce up and down on his cock while he gripped her ass and called her "his beautiful queen," all I felt was cold anger.

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‎They had no idea what was coming.

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‎"You're sure you can access her accounts?" Victoria asked, pausing her movements to look down at him seriously.

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‎"Already did," Marcus said. "Her passwords were so fucking stupid. 'BabyBennett2024.' I transferred everything to my private account three days after the accident. Twelve million dollars. Her entire rainy day fund."

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‎Victoria threw her head back and laughed, a rich, sound of triumph. “God, she was so predictable. ‘Always have a safety net, Vic,’” she mimicked in a sing-song voice. “Well, look where her safety net got her. Right into our pockets.”

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‎“Our first joint investment,” Marcus said, grinning. “A fitting tribute.”

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‎Victoria resumed fucking him, faster now, more animalistic. "You're so fucking smart," she gasped. "That's why I love you."

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‎"You love my money," Marcus said, and they both laughed. They actually fucking laughed.

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‎I stood there watching my husband have sex with my best friend while they discussed stealing my business and my money. And I made a decision that would define the next two years of my life.

‎They were going to pay. Not just financially or legally. They were going to understand, bone-deep in their souls, what they'd done to me.

‎I was going to make them suffer.

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