“Exactly. As soon as my wife gets the inheritance, I’m out. No reason to leave empty-handed.
Her mother’s really sick, so…
it’ll happen soon.”
I gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white. “All right,” she said brightly. “So I’ll organize a little get-together this weekend.
A backyard barbecue. Just show up, smile, say a few sweet words — and we’re in.”
I nearly choked. Saturday.
That was our anniversary. My husband had just committed to meeting another woman’s parents — for a fake engagement — on the exact day we met 9 years ago. And he didn’t even remember.
I drove them to a small house with a porch. Not ours. His “business trips” always ended there.
Jason got out without recognizing me. Paid in cash. Never looked up.
“Thanks, buddy,” he said, already reaching for Ashley’s waist. I stayed behind the wheel. Watched them disappear behind the door.
And then I sat in silence until my breathing calmed. Then I quietly said to no one:
