Chapter 3

Chloe POV:

The world spun, then steadied itself into a terrifying clarity. My body felt rigid, a statue carved from ice and horror. The words from the audio file replayed in my mind, a cruel, endless loop. The old woman, she was so slow. We'll get rid of the car. You're going on a little vacation. Every detail, every callous word, cemented the truth that had been hidden beneath years of Augustus' s calculated lies.

The date stamped on the audio file. It matched. The exact day, the exact hour, my mother had been struck down, her life irrevocably altered, her future stolen. Baylee Villarreal, the woman Augustus had taken under his wing, the ambitious intern who now basked in his favoritism, was the monster behind the wheel. And Augustus, my husband, the man who had vowed to protect me, who had comforted me through tear-soaked nights, was her accomplice, her protector. He had orchestrated the cover-up, destroyed evidence, and sent Baylee away to hide her crime, all while I grieved, all while I struggled to care for my broken mother.

My stomach heaved. No. It couldn't be true. My mind screamed in denial, clawing for a different reality, any reality where Augustus wasn't this monster. I wanted to smash the phone, obliterate the evidence, make it un-happen. But the truth was there, undeniable, visceral.

I found Augustus in the living room, sipping whiskey, Baylee draped elegantly on the sofa beside him. The scene, once familiar, now seemed grotesque, a tableau of deception. I held up my phone, my hand trembling so violently I thought I might drop it. "Did you hear this?" I asked, my voice a strangled whisper. "Did you hear what you did?"

He looked at the phone, then at me, his face impassive. He didn't answer. He just took another slow sip of his drink. The silence was his confession. The last flicker of hope, the desperate plea for him to deny it, to explain it away, died in my chest.

He rose then, moving towards me with that familiar, unnerving grace. He reached out, his hand gently touching my arm. "Chloe, darling," he began, his voice soft, almost soothing, the same tone he' d used with Baylee in the recording. It was a performance, a manipulation. "You're clearly distressed. Let's talk about this calmly."

I flinched away from his touch as if burned. "Calmly? You want to talk calmly about how you helped murder my mother's life? How you covered up for that... thing?" I pointed a shaking finger at Baylee, who suddenly looked pale, her eyes darting between Augustus and me.

Augustus sighed, a theatrical display of patience. "Chloe, it was an accident. A tragic, unfortunate accident. Baylee was young, terrified. Her career, her future, everything was at stake. What was I supposed to do? Let her go to prison? Destroy her life for a mistake?" He looked at Baylee, a possessive tenderness in his gaze. "She's brilliant, Chloe. Full of potential. Far too talented to waste away in a cell." His words were a knife twisting in my gut. He valued her "potential" more than my mother's life, more than justice, more than my peace of mind. He was defending her, still.

I couldn't speak. My throat was constricted. It felt like my blood had turned to ice, flowing sluggishly through my veins. The betrayal was absolute, a crushing weight that stole my voice, my breath. My mind flashed back to that night, the hospital, the sterile smell, the doctors' grim faces. I remembered Augustus, holding my hand, telling me, "It's a tragedy, Chloe. But we'll get through this, together. I'll take care of everything." He' d made me believe he was my rock. My protector. I had been so naive, so desperate for comfort, I' d latched onto his lies like a drowning woman. I' d trusted him. I' d believed him capable of decency, of seeking justice. Instead, he simply swept the truth under the rug, preserving his perfect image while my mother withered. He' d stolen my ability to find closure, to grieve properly.

Just then, the front door burst open. Baylee, who had been listening with growing alarm, let out a choked cry, her face contorted in a mix of fear and feigned distress. "Augustus! Chloe! What's happening?" She rushed forward, then stumbled, collapsing dramatically to the floor. "Oh, my head! Chloe, you hit me! You're crazy!" She pointed a trembling finger at me, tears streaming down her face. A thin, red scratch appeared on her cheek, as if by magic.

Augustus immediately knelt beside her, his face etched with concern. "Baylee! What did you do, Chloe?" He turned to me, his eyes now blazing with accusation. "Look what you've done! You've hurt her! Are you completely out of your mind?"

My mouth curved into a slow, chilling smile. It wasn't amusement. It was the smile of utter despair, of a soul that had finally broken free from its gilded cage, even if it meant tearing itself apart in the process. The pain, the betrayal, the gaslighting, it all coalesced into a single, terrifying resolve.

"I said I wanted a divorce," I stated, my voice coming out in a chillingly calm tone. "And now, I'm taking it." I reached into my purse, pulled out a stack of papers, already signed and notarized. The divorce agreement. Eliot had prepared it weeks ago, anticipating this moment, this final, inevitable break. "Here. It's all ready for your signature, Augustus. And don't worry, I won't ask for a penny of your blood money."

Augustus stared at the papers, then at my face, a mixture of shock and disbelief warring across his features. The carefully constructed facade of control began to crack. "You... you actually did it?" he stammered, his voice laced with venom. He snatched the papers, his eyes scanning the clauses. His signature. Mine. Already legally binding. With a furious roar, he grabbed a pen from the nearby table, scrawled his name across the document, tearing the paper slightly in his rage. "Fine! You want out? You've got it! You'll regret this, Chloe! You'll crawl back, begging, but I'll make sure there's nothing left for you!" He threw the signed papers at me.

He then pulled Baylee to her feet, his arm a protective shield around her. "Come on, Baylee. Let's get you away from this lunatic." He glared at me one last time, a promise of vengeance in his eyes, then stormed out of the house, Baylee clinging to him, casting a triumphant, malicious glance over her shoulder.

The staff, who had mysteriously appeared from various corners of the house, murmured among themselves, their pitying stares a fresh wave of humiliation. "She must be crazy," I heard one whisper. "Walking away from Augustus Clark? She'll be destitute." "Baylee's truly moved up in the world, hasn't she? From intern to replacement wife."

I stood there, the divorce papers clutched in my hand, the official seal feeling like both a brand and a liberation. Augustus, true to his word, wasted no time. Within days, Baylee Villarreal was officially named the new lead financial anchor, taking my place on the prime-time slot. It was a re-run of an old, painful story, a public declaration that I was disposable, easily replaced. My office was cleared out, my nameplate replaced.

But this time, it was different. This time, I wasn't weeping. I wasn't begging. I walked through the empty rooms of the mansion, my footsteps echoing in the silence. My belongings, carefully packed into a few suitcases, stood by the front door. I looked at the vast, empty space, a monument to a life built on lies. Then, I turned my back, and walked away.