Chapter 2

The next morning, I called the school district.

I reported the fraudulent enrollment. I reported the misuse of my identity.

Then I called the utility company and flagged the unauthorized use of my name.

After that, I went to City Hall. I officially registered Leo' s birth certificate.

Leo Connelly. My son. My maiden name.

I took a picture of the bottom part of the certificate, showing only "Leo Connelly," and posted it on my private Instagram story.

The caption was simple: "My son, my name, my house, my rules."

My in-laws, George and Carol, saw it. Mark's entire extended family saw it. They knew what it meant.

Mark came home that evening, his face thunderous.

"What the hell did you do, Sarah?"

"I corrected a fraud, Mark. And I registered our son."

"Our son? You registered him with your name? And that Instagram post? Are you trying to humiliate me? To make a public spectacle?"

He was shouting now. Leo, startled, began to wail from his crib in the next room.

"Brenda is our neighbor, Sarah! My colleague! How am I supposed to face her?"

I walked past him to soothe Leo.

"The house is mine, Mark," I said calmly, rocking my son. "A legacy from my parents. The parents whose death you helped me through. You climbed that icy fire escape to my locked apartment when I couldn't even move, remember? During that Nor'easter?"

He flinched at the memory. It was a raw point, a time he had been my absolute rock.

"I filed an official report about the school enrollment," I continued. "It' s done."

"That's unnecessarily cruel," he hissed. "To Brenda. To Maya."

"And what you did wasn't cruel to me?"

Maya's fraudulent enrollment was revoked by the end of the week.

A few days later, Isabelle, the night nurse, and I took Leo for a stroll.

The air was crisp, autumn leaves crunching underfoot.

We passed by a local coffee shop. Mark' s car was parked outside.

Through the large window, we saw him. And Brenda.

She was laughing, playfully feeding him a piece of croissant.

Then, she reached out and adjusted a watch on his wrist.

A distinctive, handcrafted silver watch.

The watch I had commissioned from a local artisan for our anniversary.

The watch he claimed hadn't been delivered yet.

My blood ran cold, then hot.

I handed Leo' s stroller to Isabelle. "Wait here."

I walked into the coffee shop.

They looked up, surprised. Mark' s face went pale. Brenda just smirked.

"That's a beautiful watch, Mark," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "Where did you get it?"

He stammered. "Oh, uh, this? It' s... it' s similar to the one you ordered. I bought this one for Brenda. A thank you. For her help on the Maxwell project. And, you know, to make up for the school thing. It was her birthday too."

Her birthday. The lie was so blatant, so disrespectful.

My anniversary gift. On her wrist, metaphorically.

"Give it to me," I said.

"Sarah, don't make a scene."

"The watch, Mark. Now."

He slowly unclasped it, his eyes darting nervously between me and Brenda.

He handed it over.

I looked at it, the silver gleaming under the cafe lights. Then I walked to the door, stepped outside, and dropped it into the storm drain by the curb.

It made a small splash.

Mark rushed out, aghast. "Are you crazy?"

Brenda followed, a triumphant little smile playing on her lips.

"You're unbelievable," Mark said, his voice choked with anger. He turned and left with Brenda, who cast a smug look back at me.

Isabelle just watched me, her expression unreadable.