Chapter 1 - The Makeup Bag
Daniel woke up exactly at seven o'clock, acting as if the terrifying violence of last night had been nothing but a bad dream.
He walked into the bedroom, smelling strongly of fresh coffee and his signature expensive cologne.
He tossed a small, black velvet makeup bag onto the mattress right next to my trembling leg.
"My mother is coming for lunch at noon," he said in a cold, commanding tone.
"Fix yourself up and smile for her."
He didn't even bother to look at the dark, painful bruise forming along my jawline.
He just adjusted his silk tie in the full-length mirror and walked out the front door without another word.
I sat perfectly still on the edge of the bed, listening to the sound of his car engine fading down the suburban street.
A strange, absolute calm washed over me as I realized the marriage was truly over.
I got out of bed and walked straight to his massive, custom-built mahogany closet.
I grabbed his tailored designer suits, his expensive silk ties, and his imported Italian leather shoes.
I carried them by the armful down the stairs and out through the glass doors to the back patio.
I tossed every single item of his clothing directly into the muddy, overgrown garden beds.
I stood on the porch and watched the expensive fabric soak up the dirty brown water from last night's heavy rain.
This house had always belonged to me, purchased with my own money years before I ever met Daniel.
My lawyer, Mara, had already drafted the emergency eviction and divorce papers based on my early morning phone call.
The locksmith arrived exactly at nine o'clock to change every single lock and security code on the property.
I was finally taking back the peaceful sanctuary that my husband and his mother had tried to steal from me.
I went back into the house to gather the last of his belongings from the hallway closet.
I picked up his favorite heavy tweed winter jacket to throw it out into the mud.
As I lifted the coat, a heavy metallic object fell out of the inner breast pocket and hit the floor.
It struck the hardwood floor with a sharp, echoing clink.
I bent down and picked up a set of unfamiliar brass keys attached to a small leather keychain.
Beside the keys was a crumpled, faded receipt from a high-end luxury jewelry store downtown.
I smoothed out the wrinkled paper and read the purchase details printed in faded black ink.
The receipt was dated just two days ago, confirming the purchase of a diamond engagement ring costing fifty thousand dollars.
It was obviously not bought for me, considering he was already my husband.
The customer name on the receipt was Daniel, but the shipping address for the ring belonged to someone else entirely.
May you like
I stared at the printed address, feeling the air completely leave my lungs in a rush of pure betrayal.
It was the home address of my younger sister, Chloe.
