Chapter 2

As I reached the edge of the manicured lawn, Richard's voice cut through the night.

"Emily!"

I paused but didn't turn.

"That diamond brooch. Your grandmother's. Jessica needs something special for the tech gala next week."

The brooch. An antique, a family heirloom, the last piece of my grandmother I had.

My hand instinctively went to my dress, where it wasn't pinned. It was safe in my jewelry box, or so I thought.

I remembered Aspen, last winter.

Richard had wanted me to give Jessica my new, limited-edition ski goggles. She'd "forgotten" hers.

I refused. It was a small thing, but it was mine.

He'd left me at the remote mountain cabin we'd rented, taking the only snowmobile. No heat, no phone signal. I'd nearly frozen before a ski patrol found me the next morning.

He called it "teaching me a lesson about sharing."

I turned slowly. Richard was on the porch, Jessica now beside him, looking smug.

"It's in the safe," I said. "The code is our original anniversary."

The one he'd forgotten for the last five years.

He smirked. "Thoughtful. Get it."

It wasn't a request.

I walked back, my steps heavy.

Inside, the remaining guests watched with avid curiosity.

I went to the study, opened the safe, and retrieved the velvet box.

I handed it to Richard.

He opened it, then passed it to Jessica. "Here, darling. See if it suits you."

Jessica's eyes glittered. She fumbled with the clasp, her painted nails too long.

The brooch slipped.

It hit the marble floor with a sickening little crack. One of the larger diamonds skittered away.

Jessica gasped, clutching her hand. "Oh! It pricked me!"

A tiny, almost invisible scratch was on her finger.

Richard's face contorted with rage. He whirled on me.

"Look what you did! You're so clumsy, you probably damaged it handing it over!"

"I..."

"She's bleeding!" He rushed to Jessica's side, cradling her hand. "Are you okay, my love?"

He glared at me. "Apologize to Jessica. Now."

Apologize. The word was a constant in our marriage.

My soup was too cold. Apologize.

I asked about a late meeting. Apologize.

I found his texts with other women. My fault for looking. Apologize.

"Richard, this is..."

"Apologize!" he roared.

The room was silent except for Jessica's soft whimpers.

I looked at her, then at him. My heart felt like a stone.

That night, before the party, I'd felt a familiar tightness in my chest, a precursor to the episodes my doctor warned about. My congenital heart condition.

I'd asked Richard if we could skip the party.

He was busy on a call with Jessica, planning her grand entrance, I later realized.

He'd waved me away. "Don't be a hypochondriac, Emily. It's just nerves."

Later, as the pain sharpened, I found him by the door, ready to leave for a pre-party drink with Jessica.

I told him I needed to see a doctor.

He'd stepped over me as I collapsed onto the Persian rug in the hall, the pain stealing my breath.

His last words before the darkness took me were to the housekeeper.

"Air out this room. Jessica's sensitive to smells. I don't want her uncomfortable when she arrives."

Now, looking at his furious face, at Jessica's feigned distress, a cold calm settled over me.

"I am sorry," I said, my voice devoid of emotion, "that your evening was disturbed."

I turned and walked back to the door, picking up my suitcase.

This time, no one tried to stop me.