Chapter 5: Home is a Lie

Gabriel stood by the window of his home office, sipping from a crystal tumbler filled with iced tea.

The world outside looked the same.

But inside, something felt off.

He couldn’t explain it. Not to Eve. Not to himself.

The house was quiet—too quiet. I moved around him like a shadow. Warm one moment, distant the next. Their rhythm, though familiar, felt strained. Like the steps of a dance he used to know but couldn’t remember.

I brought him dinner on a tray that night. Cooked his favorite—grilled salmon, asparagus, and jasmine rice.

He thanked me.

I nodded, barely looking at him.

“Eve?” he asked.

I turned.

“Are you… happy?” he asked carefully.

My face didn’t move for a beat. “Are you?”

He smiled faintly. “I think I should be. But sometimes it feels like I missed something. Like something important slipped through my fingers.”

My jaw tightened.

You did.

You slipped me through your fingers.

But all I said was, “Eat while it’s warm.”

---

In the bedroom that night, I stared at the ceiling long after Gabriel fell asleep.

His hand was resting near mine. Inches away. Close enough to touch.

I didn’t.

Everything about this man was perfect. Thoughtful. Kind. Affectionate.

Except for one problem.

It was all built on a lie.

My fingers curled under the blanket.

I cried when he left me. Shattered when he betrayed me. And now—when he was finally giving me everything I used to beg for—I could barely breathe in the same room as him.

---

The next morning, Gabriel opened his phone and found a new voice note.

No number.

Just a file.

He pressed play.

> “Gabriel… It's me. I know you don’t remember what we had, but I do. You said you’d leave her. You said she destroyed you long before I ever touched you. I was yours. I am yours. And you don’t get to erase me.”

The voice—low, breathy, familiar—sent a jolt through him.

He closed the file.

His hand trembled slightly.

Something in the voice pulled at him. Like a rope around his ribs, yanking hard.

I stepped into the room at that exact moment.

He pocketed the phone.

“You okay?” I asked, pausing at the door.

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just a weird morning.”

I left without pressing further.

He waited until the door clicked shut before replaying the message again.

> “…She destroyed you long before I ever touched you…”

He frowned.

That didn’t sound right.

Did it?

---

Meanwhile, Emily tapped furiously at her laptop. She’d used a fake VPN and ghosted email address to access Gabriel’s cloud.

There it was. His work correspondence. His legal documents. His internal memos.

And a shared folder labeled “E.F.G.”

Eve Flores-Grayson.

Emily clicked.

Inside: scanned bank records, Gabriel’s drafted will, and most importantly—the revised ownership document with Eve’s name back on it.

Emily grinned.

And then she moved quickly.

She compiled a new message.

Attached a selection of manipulated screenshots:

— Photoshopped chats showing Eve berating Gabriel

— An altered voicemail Eve never recorded

— A false timestamped text from a number saved as “Lawyer - Divorce Push”

The subject line: “Who is the liar in your bed?”

She hit send.

---

I was making tea in the kitchen when my phone buzzed.

Anonymous Email.

I opened it casually—expecting spam.

Instead, my entire body went rigid.

The photos. The texts. The voicemail.

It all painted a terrifying lie—that I had plotted against Gabriel. That I had emotionally blackmailed him into staying married. That I had been the manipulative one all along.

My hands trembled.

A voice whispered in the back of my mind.

He might believe it.

---

Gabriel found me staring at the kitchen table fifteen minutes later.

“Eve?” he asked.

I jolted, shoving my phone off the table. It clattered to the floor.

He blinked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. Too quickly.

He picked up the phone, glanced at the screen—still lit up with the email.

“Who sent that?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

His eyes scanned the subject line.

“Eve, why does this say—”

“I didn’t send it,” she cut in. “And none of it is true.”

He hesitated.

That hesitation—it stabbed me 

“I don’t even know what this is about,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” I said bitterly. “You’re the one who forgot everything.”

He stepped back.

“Why are you so angry at me?” he asked, quietly.

I met his gaze. My voice dropped to a whisper.

“Because you gave me a reason to be. And I can’t tell you why—because the truth would break you. And I’m not sure you deserve to be protected from it.”

---

That night, I sat on the patio, wrapped in a blanket, trying to breathe.

Isabella called.

“I got your message,” my godmother said. “Emily’s stepping up her game.”

“She sent fake messages,” I said. “It’s worse than before. He’s getting pulled toward her—without even knowing who she is.”

Isabella was quiet for a beat. Then: “You could tell him.”

“They said not to.”

“I’m not talking about doctors. I’m talking about your soul.”

I swallowed hard.

“If you don’t start fighting for your truth, Emily’s going to rewrite it for both of you.”

---

In the morning, Gabriel came into the kitchen holding a printed page.

The email.

He’d printed it.

“What is this?” he asked again. His tone was calm, but cold.

“It’s fake.”

“Then why do the screenshots look real?”

“I don’t know, Gabriel!” I snapped. “I don’t know how to fake a voicemail I never recorded!”

His jaw tensed.

“I can’t tell what’s real anymore,” he said.

And that—that—was the worst part.

Because neither could I.

---

Across town, Emily sat in a boutique cafe, sipping espresso like she owned the world.

Her phone buzzed.

A reply.

From Gabriel.

“Who are you?”

She smiled.

> You knew me before you forgot.

I’ll make you remember.

And when you do… you’ll come back.

You always do.

She pressed send.