“Spam has become incredibly affectionate these days, calling you love and all,” she said, the edge in her voice sharp enough to cut.
Bennett finally looked at her then, his expression so cold it felt as though something necessary inside her chest had cracked apart.
“I am completely exhausted by your constant dramatic scenes, so if you want to be a victim, go find a lawyer and file for a divorce, maybe then you will finally stop bothering me,” he snapped.
Elise did not scream. She did not cry. She did not pick up anything and throw it at his head. She only stepped out of the way and let him leave with the heavy suitcase, the same one they had bought for their honeymoon in Key West. Luggage
When his car at last vanished down the quiet street, the house sank into a thick silence, but it was not the silence of grief or loneliness.
It felt as if, for the first time in years, the house itself had finally been allowed to breathe.
Elise sat at the kitchen island and opened Bennett’s old laptop, the one he had always assumed she was too trusting to inspect.
That assumption was his greatest mistake.
His email inbox was still open, and the first thing she found was the reservation confirmation: a luxury suite in Lake Tahoe, complete with a private hot tub, a romantic dinner, couples massages, and a vintage bottle of wine included.
Everything had been charged to their joint credit card.
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