LOGINMARY'S POV:"You're taking his car," I said. It wasn't a question."He said I could." She slipped the keys into the pocket of her robe and glanced back at me over her shoulder. "I have things to do. Places to be. Don't wait up."The door opened. The morning light spilled in, golden and warm, illuminating every crack in the marble floor, every piece of broken glass, every photograph scattered at my feet.And then she was gone.The door closed behind her. The engine of Alistair's car rumbled to life in the driveway. I stood there in the silence, still holding the broken frame, still wearing my flour-dusted apron, still trying to understand how my life had become this.I walked to the kitchen. My phone was on the counter, exactly where I had left it. The screen was dark. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from Alistair.I picked it up and dialed his number.It rang once. Twice. Three times."Mary?" His voice was distracted, distant, like he was already thinking about something else. "
MARY'S POV:The man in the leather jacket looked at the hidden photograph in my hands, then at my face, then back at the photograph.His expression shifted.The lazy amusement drained away first, replaced by something that looked almost like confusion. Then the confusion hardened into something else—something that might have been concern, or guilt, or the uncomfortable realization that he had miscalculated."I should go," he said.And then he left.Just like that. No apology. No explanation. No offer to help or stay or even close the door behind him. He turned on his heel and walked out of my house, his expensive shoes clicking against the marble floor until the sound faded into nothing.The front door swung shut with a soft click.I stood there in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by broken glass and scattered photographs, and I didn't even have time to care. Because the second he was gone—the second the silence settled back into the house like dust settling on old furniture—I hear
MARY'S POV:I felt something crack a bit inside my chest."Cancel it," I said."Excuse me?""The party. Whatever he's planning. Cancel it."He stared at me for a long moment. Then his mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't take orders from delusional women who pretend to be married to my friends.""I'm not pretending.""Then where is he?" He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the empty foyer, the silent staircase, the closed doors. "If you're his wife, where's your husband? Why isn't he here? Why hasn't he mentioned you? Not once. In all the years i have known him. Not a single word."I opened my mouth and then closed it.Because he was right. Alistair wasn't here. I didn't know where he was—upstairs, probably, or already gone, slipped out the back while I was standing in the kitchen pretending to cook for his mistress. And my phone was still in the kitchen, untouched since last night, and I hadn't seen a single message or missed call from the man who was suppo
MARY'S POV:He looked me up and down very slowly. The way you might look at a piece of furniture you were considering buying but weren't sure would fit in your living room."Alistair called me," he said, and his voice was exactly what I expected—low, rough, with an edge of something that might have been amusement or might have been disdain. Hard to tell. "Woke me up in the middle of the night. Three in the morning. On a Wednesday. Do you know what I was doing at three in the morning?"I did not know abd I also did not care."He didn't even ask," the man continued, pushing past me into the foyer without waiting for an invitation. "Just called and said I need you here like I was some kind of errand boy. And why? Why did he drag me out of bed and put me on a plane at an ungodly hour?"He turned to face me, spreading his arms wide as if presenting evidence in a courtroom."For her. For his precious goddess. For the woman he has been pining over since." He laughed—a short, bitter sound. "F
MARY'S POV:The name hit me like a slap."Vesper," I said carefully."An old friend from the university. She's dealing with some things—her lease is up, and there's some construction at her new place, and she doesn't have anywhere else to go. I said she could crash here for a few weeks. Maybe a month." He took a sip of his coffee, watching me over the rim of the mug. "I meant to tell you last night, but it was too late when I got home, and then everything with Elowen happened, and I just… I didn't get the chance."An old friend.The same words he had used before. The same lie, wrapped in slightly different packaging."She's here now?" I asked. Pretending I didn't already know."She arrived late last night. I let her in while you were putting Elowen to bed." He set down his mug and crossed his arms, and his expression shifted into something almost like expectation. Like he was waiting for me to object so he could dismiss it. "I'd appreciate it if you made her feel welcome. Cook a few o
MARY'S POV:Somewhere deep down, in a place I didn't want to acknowledge, I realized the truth: I still wanted to believe him. Even now. Even after seeing Vesper in that bed. Some pathetic, desperate part of me still wanted all of this to be a nightmare. I wanted the video to be edited. I wanted Vesper to be just an old friend. I wanted there to be some perfectly innocent explanation for why she was sleeping in my guest room in the middle of the night.Because if I asked the questions out loud—if I said the words are you sleeping with her or do you love her or have you ever loved me at all—then they would become real. They would exist in the world, spoken aloud, impossible to take back. And I wasn't sure I was ready for that kind of reality.So I had stayed silent.I had closed the door.And I had pretended, just like I had been pretending for seven years, that everything was fine.A car engine rumbled outside the window.I leaned toward the crack in the curtains and peered out throug
HANNAH’S POV:He parked outside one of my favorite restaurants. It was called Lovelies and it was a cozy little place that made the best homemade takeouts. It was one of the notable identifications for me at how the city had developed over the past years of my absence. I remember there used to be a
3RD POV:Cherry threw a handful of confetti at him. “We thought you’d like a little noise before you go back to being boring again!”Martin appeared with a tray which had lasagna she had made for him while in the hospital and he asked for more, grinning. “I told them you’d be craving this more than
3RD POV:Her father’s voice rose slightly, “Because there’s no proof, Hannah! None! Janet’s been through hell because of you. The least you can do is stop adding fuel to her misery.”Her voice trembled from rage, not fear. “Her misery? What about mine? What about Elijah’s? What about my children wa
3RD POV:“No, please,” Janet pleaded as she cut her off, raising her hands, “just hear me out.”She stood abruptly and began pacing.“I know it looks bad. I know the timing is terrible. But I didn’t shoot Elijah. I wasn’t even near the mansion that night. I was home! I swear it. And all these… accu







