Chapter 4

My college roommate, Chloe, was getting married next month. She posted her wedding invitation in the group, and everyone was congratulating her.

I scrolled up through the chat history. My last message was from three months ago—someone had asked if I was there, and I simply replied, "Yeah."

Further back, from six months ago, when they were planning a reunion, I had said, "Can't make it, busy with the baby."

Chloe sent me a private message on SnapChat: "Nora, how have you been? I feel like you haven't been active in forever."

Staring at the message, my eyes suddenly welled up.

But I didn't let the tears fall.

I sniffled, typing back: "I'm good, just busy with the kid. I'll definitely make it to the wedding."

After sending that, I put my phone down and walked to the front door.

The touch panel of the smart lock glowed with a faint blue light in the dark.

I tapped the "change passcode" option and entered a new six-digit code.

Then, I deleted all previously registered fingerprints—including my own, Ethan's, Martha's, Clara's, and the one belonging to the person I had never met but who could easily open this door.

I registered only my own fingerprint.

After locking up, I went upstairs.

In the master bedroom, the duvet was neatly folded. On the nightstand lay a half-read financial magazine belonging to Ethan.

In the bathroom, his electric toothbrush was still charging. Two sets of toiletries sat side by side on the sink. My toothpaste tube was squeezed messily, while his was pristine.

I grabbed a trash bag and swept all of his toiletries inside.

Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, face wash, aftershave—not a single thing was left.

Then I went to the walk-in closet, dragged out his suitcases, and began pulling his clothes off the hangers, stuffing them inside without even folding them.

Suits, shirts, pants, and socks were all tangled together, but I couldn't care less.

In less than fifteen minutes, two suitcases were packed. I dragged them out of the closet. As I passed the hallway, I noticed the study door was still closed.

I knocked twice.

"It's unlocked," Ethan's voice called out.

I pushed the door open.

He was sitting behind his mahogany desk, several documents spread out in front of him. On his laptop screen was an open, encrypted folder.

He glanced at the suitcases by my feet, his brows furrowing.

"What are you doing packing bags?"

I didn't answer. I pushed the suitcases into the corner and clapped my hands, as if brushing off dust.

"Ethan, I read your divorce agreement."

"And?"

"I have a few revisions."

He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I knew that expression all too well—it was the face he made whenever he held the upper hand in a negotiation.

"Go ahead."

"First, I don't want the suburban apartment. The Long Island estate is yours, and giving me that tiny two-bedroom place is insulting. I want your downtown luxury condo instead. Excellent location, market value around seven million. That will do."

He said nothing, but his smirk faltered slightly.

"Second, I want sole custody of our son. You get visitation rights. You can see him once a week, for no more than eight hours. If you want, you can take him out, but overnight stays require my written consent."

"Third, I don't want fifty thousand dollars. I want thirty percent of your company's shares."

He laughed. A harsh, mocking laugh escaped his nose, filled with sheer disbelief.

"Nora, are you out of your mind?"

"Do you honestly think I wouldn't dare take you to court?"

He stood up, walked around the desk, and stopped right in front of me, looking down at me condescendingly.

"What do you have to fight me with? I spend two million dollars a year keeping my legal team on retainer. What about you? You can't even afford a decent lawyer."

"I don't need to hire a lawyer."

"Oh? And why is that?"

I pulled my phone from my pocket and pressed play.

Martha's hushed, smiling voice filled the quiet room: *"Be good, Lily. Grandma will come back tomorrow... Yes, Mommy is here too... Daddy said he'll take you to Disneyland next week..."*

Ethan's face completely changed.

It wasn't a sudden shift from red to pale; rather, all expression drained from his face instantly. Every muscle froze, his pupils contracted, and his lips tightened into a hard line.

Once the recording finished, I tucked the phone back into my pocket.

"Martha has worked for us for four years. You knew about her granddaughter, you knew about Vanessa, and you certainly knew Clara was tutoring Lily. The only thing you didn't know was that Martha would FaceTime her granddaughter in the middle of the night—and that my phone has a very efficient recording function."

"You—"

"Ethan," I interrupted him, "do you remember? I was the one who chose the security system for this house. I was the one who installed the cameras, including the one in the living room. I didn't set them up to spy on the housekeeper; I did it to watch my son. But guess what? The system has another feature—every sound captured by the microphones is automatically backed up to a secure cloud server."

He fell completely silent.

The study was so quiet you could hear the ticking of the wall clock.

"Your terms were decent, but honestly, I think mine are much better."