Chapter 3

The next few months are a masterclass in deception.

I play the loving fiancée to perfection, while Molly, emboldened, uses her "humble" position to manufacture constant encounters with Caleb.

I "accidentally" find receipts. A ridiculously expensive handbag from a boutique Molly couldn' t possibly afford. Dinners for two at restaurants I know Caleb frequents for "business meetings."

I confront him, not with rage, but with tears.

"Caleb, what is this?" I ask, holding up a credit card statement. "Who are you taking to these places?"

He wraps me in his arms, his voice a soothing balm of lies.

"Baby, those are for clients. You know how it is. We have to woo them."

"And this?" I gesture to the handbag receipt. "Is this for a client too?"

He has an answer ready. "It was a gift for a client's wife. Her birthday. It' s just business, Gabby. It' s all to rebuild what your family lost. It' s for us."

He' s so convincing. The first time, I believed every word. This time, I just nod, letting a single tear roll down my cheek.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm just so on edge since... since everything."

"I know," he says, stroking my hair. "Don't you worry about a thing."

I know he' s not just funding her lifestyle. He' s grooming her. He' s testing her loyalty, her greed. He' s building his co-conspirator.

The turning point comes on my birthday.

We' re at my family' s beach house in the Hamptons. The last major asset I have left. It' s a place of ghosts, of happy memories now tainted by the truth.

I invite a small group of friends, and of course, I insist Molly come.

"You' re like family, Molly," I tell her, and she beams, a shark smelling blood in the water.

Late that night, after the guests have stumbled off to their rooms, I pretend to go to bed. I leave my door slightly ajar and wait. I know they can' t resist the thrill of carrying on under my own roof.

An hour passes. Then I hear it. Whispers from the deck below my window.

I slip out of bed, my heart pounding not with fear, but with cold adrenaline. I creep to the window, hiding behind the heavy curtain.

There they are. Bathed in moonlight. Caleb has his back to the house, Molly is facing him, her arms wrapped around his neck.

"When are you going to get rid of her?" Molly' s voice is a petulant whine. "I' m tired of hiding in the basement, Caleb. I' m tired of pretending to be her pathetic charity case."

"Patience, my love," Caleb' s voice is low, but it carries on the still night air. "The trust fund is locked up tight. We need to be smart. We can' t just take it."

"So what' s the plan?" she presses.

Caleb laughs, a low, chilling sound. "The same plan that worked on her parents. An accident. Something clean. Something that leaves you and me in control of everything."

My breath catches in my throat. I knew he was a monster, but hearing him admit to murdering my parents so casually makes the world tilt on its axis.

He killed them. That "freak yachting accident" in the Mediterranean. It was him.

"You arranged that?" Molly asks, a hint of awe in her voice.

"I arrange everything," Caleb says, his arrogance absolute. "Just like I arranged for that mugger to give you a little shove. Best investment I ever made. It got you right where I needed you, next to her."

The world goes silent. The sound of the waves, the chirping of crickets, it all fades away.

The mugging was fake.

Her "rescue" was a performance.

My entire world, the foundation of my grief and my gratitude, was a lie constructed by the man I was supposed to marry.

I don' t feel grief. I don' t feel sadness.

I feel a rage so pure and so cold it' s like a block of ice forming in my chest.

I back away from the window, my movements silent. I slide my phone from my pocket.

I had started recording the moment I heard their voices.

I have it all.

Every single word.

The revenge plot I had been forming was a sketch. Now, it becomes a blueprint for annihilation.