Chapter 4

I started packing. Small things at first.

Photos of my parents, a few favorite books, clothes Ethan had never seen me wear.

I threw away the expensive jewelry he' d given me, the dresses he' d picked out.

Shedding my old life, piece by piece.

Ethan, still playing the grieving brother devoted to Olivia, barely noticed my quiet preparations.

He and Olivia were a fixture in the society pages now.

"Tragic Marcus Cole' s Widow Finds Comfort with Devoted Brother-in-Law."

It made me want to scream.

One evening, Ethan called.

"Sarah, Olivia is feeling much better. We want to thank you properly for the blood. Dinner, tonight. Just us."

"No, thank you," I said.

"Don' t be difficult, Sarah. It' s the least you can do. For Marcus' s memory."

His voice had that edge, the one that promised trouble if I refused.

I went. The dinner was a nightmare.

Olivia, pale but triumphant, clinging to Ethan' s arm.

Ethan, all solicitous charm, playing the perfect host.

I made my excuses early, pleading a headache.

"Of course, dear," Olivia said, her smile not reaching her eyes. "You need your rest."

I drove home, my stomach churning.

Later that night, flashing blue lights filled my rearview mirror.

Two police officers at my door.

"Sarah Cole? We need you to come with us. There' s been a hit-and-run. Your car matches the description. And witnesses saw you leaving The Clove restaurant around the time of the incident."

The Clove. Where we' d had dinner.

"But... I came straight home," I stammered.

They found a dent on my fender I' d never seen before, a smear of paint that wasn' t mine.

And then, the question.

"Ma' am, have you had anything to drink tonight?"

I had. A glass of wine, alone in my kitchen, trying to calm my nerves after that awful dinner.

They cuffed me.

Framed. Perfectly.