Chapter 3 - The Spider and the Fly
For the next two weeks, I played the part of the devoted, oblivious wife to perfection.
Grant came home smelling of expensive perfume and corporate exhaustion, wearing a mask of fabricated guilt. He kissed my cheek, murmured excuses about board meetings running late, and subtly tested the waters regarding our finances.
“Evelyn, honey,” Grant said over dinner one evening, flashing a practiced, charming smile. “The board is looking to restructure some of our legacy holdings. We’re thinking about consolidating the Madison Street property and the Harbor Industrial warehouse to free up liquidity for our tech expansion.”
I cut into my steak, keeping my expression entirely neutral. “Is that so, Grant? Madison Street was my mother’s home. It holds sentimental value.”
“Sentiment doesn't pay dividends, Ev,” he chuckled, reaching across the table to pat my hand condescendingly. “Trust me, I’m looking out for our future. You don't need to worry your pretty head about real estate deeds and corporate restructuring.”
There it is, I thought. The exact phrase he always used when he wanted to bypass my intelligence.
“If you say so, darling,” I replied, fluttering my eyelashes with calculated submission.
May you like
Satisfied that I remained completely under his thumb, Grant left for a weekend trip to New York the next morning. Of course, he told me it was a convention. In reality, flight logs and Daniel Mercer’s private investigators confirmed he was meeting with Sloane Mercer in a luxury penthouse overlooking Central Park, finalizing the transfer documents for Phase One of the liquidation.
They thought they were winning. They believed the game was already over.
