Chapter 3 - The Ghost in the House
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I put Stella to bed with a warm cup of milk and an extra bedtime story, ensuring the chaotic disappointment of the evening was completely erased from her mind. I kissed her forehead, turned on her nightlight, and closed the door softly behind me.
The house was suffocatingly quiet. Our beautiful, multi-million-dollar brownstone felt like a museum filled with artifacts of a fraudulent history. I walked into the master bedroom, staring at the massive king-sized bed we shared.
I did not pack my bags. I did not throw his clothes out the window. I walked into my bathroom, splashed freezing water on my face, and stared at my reflection until the exhausted, betrayed woman disappeared, replaced by a flawless mask of domestic tranquility.
At 1:15 AM, the front door unlocked.
I sat in the living room chair, reading a novel in the dim light of a floor lamp. I heard Richard’s heavy footsteps in the foyer, the sound of his wet umbrella being placed in the ceramic stand.
He walked into the living room, shedding his charcoal suit jacket. He looked exhausted, rubbing the back of his neck, but when he saw me, he offered a warm, practiced smile.
“You’re up late, Victoria,” Richard murmured, walking over to kiss the top of my head.
I didn't flinch. I inhaled subtly. Beneath the smell of expensive Scotch and rain, there was the faint, lingering scent of jasmine and vanilla. The perfume from the lobby.
“I couldn't sleep,” I said smoothly, marking my page and closing the book. “How was the foundation gala? Did you raise enough money for the new development?”
Richard sighed, dropping onto the sofa opposite me. He unbuttoned his collar, looking exactly like the hardworking husband I had always believed him to be.
“It was endless,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Hundreds of handshakes, endless speeches. I barely had time to eat. I wish you could have been there, but you know how the board prefers to keep these things strictly corporate.”
The lie flowed from his lips with terrifying ease. He didn't even blink. He had perfected the art of looking me in the eye and delivering absolute fiction.
“I’m just glad you’re home,” I smiled, standing up and smoothing my silk robe. “Stella made you a project at school today. I left it on your nightstand.”
May you like
“I’ll go look at it right now,” Richard promised, his eyes softening with what looked like genuine affection.
I watched him walk up the stairs, a cold, dark resolve solidifying in my chest. He thought he was the architect of our lives. He didn't realize I had just become the demolition crew.
