Chapter 2: The Silent Transaction
The silence in the kitchen was heavier than any argument we had ever had. I left the ring on the granite countertop—a small, diamond-encrusted weight that no longer held meaning. As I zipped my suitcase, the front door clicked open.
Mark didn’t walk in; he invaded. He smelled of cold air and expensive scotch. When he saw the suitcase, the mask of the doting husband vanished, replaced by a desperate, jagged anxiety.
“What are you doing, Anna? Put that down. Let’s talk.”
“There is nothing to talk about, Mark. I heard everything.”
His face paled, then flushed a furious red. “It’s not what you think. It’s complicated. Jessica—she’s, she’s fragile.”
“And I’m not?” I laughed, a hollow sound that didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m just the obstacle, aren’t I? The one you have to pretend with.”
Before he could answer, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was a text from an unknown number: “I know where you are. I need to see you. Emergency. – James Vance.”
My heart stopped. James? How did he get my number? My hands moved of their own accord, typing a location: The diner on 4th Street. In ten minutes.
May you like
I pushed past Mark without looking back. He reached for my arm, but I ducked away. “If you follow me,” I said, my voice dangerously calm, “I will go to your parents' house and tell Patricia every single detail of your ‘fragile’ mistress’s life. Do you think they’ll keep funding your venture capital firm if they know you’re a liability?”
He froze. I left him in the hallway—a ghost in his own home.
