I “woke up,” on cue, exactly where the recording had taught me they’d take me.
A quiet house.
Julian’s car already in the driveway.
Vanessa in the doorway, a folder in her hand, a pen already uncapped for a signature they intended to take from a woman too sedated to refuse.
Except I walked in on my own two feet, clear-eyed and sober, and I looked at the three of them — my husband, his brother, and the woman he’d actually chosen — and I said the only thing I’d rehearsed.
“I’m not out of shape, Julian. I’m wide awake.”
The confusion on their faces lasted about four seconds.
That was how long it took the detectives to come through the door behind me.
The room went completely still — Vanessa’s pen frozen above the page, Marcus half-risen from his chair, Julian’s mouth open around a lie he never got to finish.
For the first time in months, I was the only person in the room who knew exactly what was about to happen.
