Chapter 1 - The Accidental Confession
I stared at Ellie’s phone propped against the marble backsplash.
The little red light on the screen was blinking.
She had been trying to film one of her stupid family vlog cooking videos before the argument started.
She wanted to show off the expensive spread I had bought with my own hard-earned money.
She forgot to hit stop.
I stepped forward and snatched the device from the granite counter.
Ellie’s smug smile instantly vanished from her face.
"Hey!" she shrieked loudly.
"Give that back to me right now!"
She lunged forward, her long acrylic nails clawing at the empty air.
I sidestepped her clumsy grab easily.
I tapped the red square on the screen to stop the recording.
I immediately hit the share icon at the bottom.
My fingers flew across the digital keyboard as I sent the massive video file to my own phone number.
"What are you doing?" Ellie demanded.
Her voice was pitching into a panicked, high-pitched squeal.
"Nothing you need to worry about," I said coldly.
My own phone buzzed heavily in my back pocket, confirming the successful transfer.
I tossed her expensive phone back onto the counter.
It clattered loudly against the ceramic fruit bowl.
Beatrice, my nightmare of a mother-in-law, crossed her arms over her chest.
She let out a harsh, mocking scoff that echoed in the kitchen.
"Let her throw her little temper tantrum, Ellie."
"Mark will be home in exactly ten minutes."
"We'll see exactly how brave she is when her husband walks through that front door."
I looked down at Dustin.
My sweet, quiet, perfect seven-year-old boy.
He was still sitting in the far corner of the dining room.
He hadn't touched a single bite of the cold boiled potato.
Tears were silently streaming down his pale, freckled cheeks.
His tiny hands were folded tightly in his lap.
My heart broke into a million agonizing pieces.
Then, it hardened into solid, unbreakable ice.
Dustin wasn't Mark's biological son.
I had adopted him as a single mother before I ever even met Mark.
But Mark had promised to love him as his own flesh and blood.
He had sworn on his life to me that his family would welcome him with open arms.
That was the absolute biggest lie of my entire life.
"You have one hour and fifty-five minutes left," I stated evenly.
"I highly suggest you start packing your bags."
Beatrice just rolled her eyes dramatically.
She picked up a massive piece of the gourmet fried chicken I had paid for.
She took a deliberately slow, exaggerated bite.
"I’m not going anywhere," she chewed loudly with her mouth open.
"This is my son's house."
"He provides for you."
"He provides for that... child."
She gestured vaguely toward my crying son with her greasy chicken bone.
"You should be on your hands and knees thanking us for putting up with your baggage."
I felt a dark, hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat.
I ruthlessly suppressed it.
They really had absolutely no idea.
Mark had lied to them about everything since the day we got married.
He played the big, successful provider for his mommy and sister.
But I was the one paying the massive monthly mortgage.
I was the one funding this lavish, comfortable lifestyle they enjoyed.
The massive suburban house was entirely in my name.
Before I could correct her wild delusion, the front door rattled.
The heavy oak door swung open with a loud creak.
Mark walked in, casually loosening his expensive silk tie.
May you like
"Honey, I'm home!" he called out cheerfully.
The battle lines were officially drawn.
