Chapter 2 - THE DINNER OF GHOSTS
The dining table was set with fine china,
the silver polished until it shone like surgical instruments.
Marcus sat across from me,
cutting into his steak with a rhythmic precision.
He was talking about his day,
weaving a tapestry of lies about meetings and client lunches.
“The Miller account is finally closing,”
he said,
wiping his mouth with a linen napkin.
I knew for a fact the Miller account had closed three days ago.
I had signed the final paperwork myself while he was supposedly at the gym.
“That’s wonderful,
dear,”
I replied,
taking a slow sip of my wine.
The red liquid tasted like copper and ash.
“Vanessa called me today,”
I said,
dropping the name like a stone into a still pond.
Marcus’s hand paused for a microsecond,
a tiny glitch in his perfect performance.
“Oh?
How is she?”
he asked,
his voice a pitch too casual.
“She says the baby is sleeping through the night,”
I lied,
watching him closely.
“She sounds...
relieved.”
Marcus nodded,
recovering his composure.
“She’s lucky to have a sister like you,
Adeline.”
“She’d be lost without your support.”
I felt a surge of cold fury,
but I kept it buried beneath a layer of pleasantry.
“We all have our roles to play,
Marcus,”
I said,
leaning forward.
“I just wonder if everyone is happy with their part.”
He laughed,
that charming,
disarming laugh that had once made me feel like the luckiest woman alive.
“I’m perfectly happy,
my love.”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
I looked at him,
really looked at him,
seeing the stranger behind the eyes I had kissed for ten years.
He was a predator who had found a comfortable den.
He was a parasite who believed the host would never stop feeding him.
After dinner,
he went to his study,
saying he had more "work" to do.
I knew he was calling her.
I went to my own office and opened my laptop.
A message from my financial investigator was already waiting.
He had found a series of "consulting fees" paid out of our joint account.
They were small enough to go unnoticed individually,
but together,
they totaled nearly two hundred thousand dollars over the last year.
The recipient was a shell company registered in Vanessa’s name.
It wasn't just my generosity they were using.
They were actively stealing from me,
funneling my company’s profits into their private nest egg.
I felt a strange sense of relief.
Betrayal is easier to handle when it's backed by hard data.
I reached into my desk drawer and pulled out a small,
leather-bound notebook.
I began to list the things I would take back.
The apartment.
The car.
The trust funds.
The name.
I would strip them bare,
leaving them with nothing but the son they so desperately wanted.
I heard Marcus laughing in the other room,
a soft sound through the vents.
He thought he was the architect of his own destiny.
He didn't realize I was the one who owned the land he was building on.
I closed the notebook and turned off the lights.
May you like
The game had officially begun,
and the board was already tilted in my favor.
