Chapter 2 - The Return of the Prodigal Liar
Philip arrived home three hours later,
smelling of expensive bourbon and the crisp air of the Adirondacks.
He walked through the door with an air of practiced nonchalance,
tossing his keys onto the marble console.
"I’m home,"
he announced,
his voice booming through the hallway.
Glenda immediately scurried to him,
hugging him as if he had just returned from a heroic battle.
"Oh,
my sweet boy,"
she cooed,
shooting a triumphant glance at Demi.
"You must be exhausted from all that hard work at the lake house."
Philip glanced at Demi,
who was standing in the kitchen,
still wearing her work scrubs.
"Happy birthday,
Demi,"
he said,
his tone devoid of any real affection.
"Sorry I couldn't get back earlier,
the plumbing was a nightmare."
Demi didn't look up from the stove,
where she was stirring a pot of soup.
"It’s fine,
Philip,"
she said,
her voice steady and calm.
"I’m sure you had your hands full with many things."
Philip stiffened slightly,
searching her face for a hint of sarcasm.
He found nothing but a blank mask of compliance.
"Good,"
he said,
loosening his tie.
"Mom said you were being difficult this morning."
"I was just tired,"
Demi replied,
turning off the burner.
"But I’ve had time to think,
and I realized you both are right."
Glenda smirked,
nudging Philip’s arm.
"See?
I told you she just needed a little discipline."
Philip chuckled,
feeling the familiar surge of power he always felt when Demi bowed to his mother’s whims.
"Well,
I’m glad we’re on the same page,"
he said,
walking over to the table.
"Is dinner ready?
I’m starving."
Demi began to set the table,
placing the plates down with agonizing slowness.
She placed a bottle of wine in the center,
a vintage that Philip had been saving for a "special occasion."
"Why are we opening that?"
Philip asked,
his eyebrows knitting together.
"Because tonight is a celebration,"
Demi said,
pouring him a glass.
"A celebration of the truth,
and of new beginnings."
Philip took a sip of the wine,
relaxing into his chair.
"I didn't get you a gift,
by the way,"
he said,
wiping his mouth with a napkin.
"I figured the lake house repairs were expensive enough."
"Oh,
I don't need a gift from you,"
Demi said,
sitting down across from him.
"I’ve already given myself everything I need."
Glenda sat at the head of the table,
beaming at her son.
"He’s such a provider,"
the older woman said,
ignoring Demi’s comment.
"You don't know how lucky you are to have a man who looks after you."
Demi felt a surge of bile in her throat,
but she swallowed it down.
She reached into her pocket and felt the cool,
hard surface of her phone.
A text had just come through from Paige.
"Everything is signed and filed.
The courier is five minutes away."
Demi smiled,
a real smile this time,
one that didn't reach her eyes.
"Tell me,
Philip,"
she said,
leaning forward.
"How was the plumbing in Lake Placid?
Did you manage to fix everything?"
Philip’s eyes darted to the side,
a classic tell he had used since the day they met.
"Yeah,"
he lied,
his voice dropping an octave.
"It was just a burst pipe,
took all day to patch up."
"And the blonde woman?"
Demi asked,
her voice as light as a feather.
"Did she help you with the pipe?"
The room went deathly silent.
Philip froze,
his wine glass halfway to his lips.
Glenda’s fork clattered against her plate,
the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"What did you just say?"
Philip whispered,
his face turning a ghostly shade of pale.
"I’m talking about the woman in the photos,"
Demi said,
pulling the envelope from beneath her placemat.
She fanned the pictures out across the table,
sliding them toward him one by one.
The terrace.
The kiss.
The apron.
Philip stared at the images,
his mouth hanging open.
"Demi,
I can explain,"
he started,
his voice shaking.
"No,
you don't have to,"
Demi interrupted,
standing up.
"Because Glenda already explained it to me."
She looked at her mother-in-law,
who was suddenly very interested in her soup.
"She told me she knew all about it,"
Demi said,
her voice rising in volume.
"She told me you had a reason to stray because I wasn't a 'good wife'."
Philip turned to his mother,
his eyes wide with betrayal.
"Mom?
You told her?"
"She saw the pictures!"
Glenda shrieked,
her face turning a mottled red.
"What was I supposed to do?
She’s the one who’s been failing you!"
The doorbell rang,
a sharp,
insistent sound that broke the tension.
"That will be the door,"
Demi said,
walking toward the hallway.
May you like
"I suggest you both finish your wine,
because it’s the last thing you’ll ever drink in this house."
