Chapter 3

The weekend visit to Mark' s parents was, as always, an exercise in polite torture.

Karen Johnson, Mark' s mother, made no secret of her disdain for me.

"Sarah, dear," she' d said, her voice dripping with false sweetness as we arrived, "you' re looking a little... pale. Are you eating enough?"

David, Mark' s father, was quieter, a shadow in Karen' s overbearing presence.

He just nodded, offering a weak smile that didn' t reach his eyes.

Their house was immaculate, cold, like a museum.

Karen watched my every move, her criticism veiled in concern.

"Mark tells me you' re not working much these days, Sarah. A woman should have her own interests, don' t you think?"

I was a self-made businesswoman, I' d built my life from nothing.

She knew that.

"I' m focusing on some personal projects," I replied, keeping my tone even.

Mark, ever the doting son, just lapped up his mother' s attention.

"Mom' s just worried about you, honey," he said, patting my hand, a gesture that now felt reptilian.

During dinner, Karen dominated the conversation, mostly reminiscing about Mark' s childhood and his high school sweetheart, Jessica.

"Jessica was such a lovely girl," Karen sighed, shooting me a pointed look. "So full of life. They were so good together."

My blood ran cold. Jessica. Of course.

Mark shifted uncomfortably but said nothing to defend me.

David remained silent, picking at his food.

Later, Karen cornered me in the kitchen while I was "helping" with the dishes, a task she always assigned me.

"You know, Sarah," she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, "Mark deserves to be happy. Truly happy. With someone who... understands him. Someone from his world."

Her meaning was clear. I was an outsider, unsuitable.

She wanted me gone.

I just smiled faintly. "I want Mark to be happy too, Karen."

Her eyes narrowed, searching mine for any sign of weakness.

I gave her none.

On the drive home, Mark was quiet.

"My mom can be a bit much," he finally said, "but she means well."

"Does she?" I asked, looking out the window at the darkening landscape.

He didn't answer.

The visit only solidified what I already knew.

Karen wasn't just an overbearing mother-in-law.

She was part of their plan, or at least, she' d welcome its outcome.

She wanted Mark with Jessica.

She wanted me out of the picture. Permanently.