I came home early from workto caught my husband was moving his mistress and their two secret babies into my living room. The mistress was ripping down my late mother’s portrait to hang a TV. “They’re moving in. Deal with it,” he sneered. “We need the space.” He expected me to cry and beg. I didn’t. I calmly set my keys on the table, pulled out my phone, and called the one person who could entirely destroy him.

We walked up the manicured stone pathway. Through the bay window, I could see Ben holding court in the center of my living room. He was wearing a tailored navy suit, holding a crystal tumbler of my late father’s expensive scotch. He was surrounded by his firm’s senior partners and Maya’s bewildered parents, laughing loudly at some joke he had just made. Maya was nowhere to be seen.

I didn’t bother knocking. I still had my key.

I pushed the front door open. The heavy oak hit the wall with a sharp thud that echoed over the jazz music.

The laughter died instantly. The room of thirty people turned to look at the doorway.

Ben’s smile froze, glass halfway to his mouth. For a split second, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. But his narcissism quickly rebooted. He forced a condescending smirk and stepped forward.

“Kate,” he said loudly, playing to his audience. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. I told you, you need to accept the new arrangements. Causing a scene at my party is just embarrassing for you.”

“Your party?” I echoed, stepping fully into the light. Miriam and the three police officers stepped in directly behind me, blocking the exit.

The collective gasp from the room was intoxicating. The senior partners of his firm simultaneously took a step away from him.

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