The instant I withdrew the divorce petition, Piper Wells, my son's tutor, raised her glass at the cocktail gathering. “To the woman warrior who’s too strong to divorce a cheating husband!” Every eye in the room drilled into me. My husband, Spencer Blackwood, gave a faint frown, and Piper giggled, sticking out her tongue. Instead of flipping a table, which was my usual style, I smiled, knocked back the expensive bourbon, and played along. We were back together. I could pretend not to see the crude, localized tattoo—a poorly done “Lakefront Legend” on Piper’s lower back. I could ignore the whispers in our circle, the cruel nickname they’d given me: The Green Queen. I could even stomach the sight of him and Piper dropping our son off at his elementary school, posing as a unified front, as if they were Jamie's actual parents. "I understand," I'd said to them, a perfect mask of grace. "It's Jamie's birthday. There is no better gift than my absence." This wasn’t love. It wasn’t a sudden, insane rush of devotion. It was the sudden realization that after storming out that day, after sleeping on a park bench under an overpass, the ten-year clause in my father's mandate was only seven days from completion. I had to finish the contract. Until the deadline, I would be the dutiful wife and mother, calm, giving, and utterly silent. But now that I was playing the role perfectly, why did they look like the ones going crazy? ... “The next one,” someone called out, a little too loud, “is for the man who calls out the wrong name in bed!” I gave a casual laugh, my hand steady as I refilled Spencer’s glass. The room went instantly quiet. Eyes flickered between me and Piper. “Wow, divorce did the trick. Evie’s so much more chill now.” “Some women just need to be tamed.” I didn't dignify them with a response. Spencer turned, a flicker of something calculating—or was it curiosity?—in his eyes. “You don’t mind?” I lowered my gaze. I used to mind. The first time Piper sent me a photo of them in my bed, I’d screamed at him to fire her. He’d agreed easily enough, but that night, I'd caught him in the dark, breathing hard, holding the flimsy lace he’d supposedly thrown into the trash can hours before. Another night, I walked into our bedroom. Two clear handprints were smeared across our wedding photo on the nightstand. One on my face, one on his. I slapped Piper. Spencer didn’t stop me. He casually lit a cigarette. “Evelyn, let’s get divorced.” I agreed out of spite. Not a single word of protest or appeal followed. Looking back, he was certain. He was the most powerful litigator in Chicago. No one would dare take my case, especially not after I signed the ‘Net-Zero’ agreement he drafted. He was waiting for me to regret it, waiting for me to beg. I swirled the amber liquid in my glass. I raised an eyebrow, the smile back in place. “Why would I mind? Someone’s stepping up to take care of you and the kid. That’s a win-win, isn't it?” Spencer's chest visibly rose and fell. It was then I remembered—when he’d handed me the scissors to cut up all the wedding photos, he’d used the exact same rationale. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Piper's phone chimed. A voice note instantly played through the speaker: “Mommy Piper, can I sleep over tonight? Daddy definitely doesn’t want her around anymore. Why is she still back at our house?” Jamie’s young, innocent voice was brutally clear. A fresh wave of pitying, judgmental looks crashed over me. The first time Jamie had snapped at me over Piper, he’d shouted, “This is Daddy’s house! Go back to your own!” Spencer had struck him. “Jamie, your mother severed ties with her grandfather. She... she has no home to go back to.” Piper fumbled dramatically to silence the voice note, then offered a small, saccharine smile. “Evie-Sis, you’re not mad, are you? He's just a child, he doesn’t know what he’s saying.” Spencer looked at Piper, his brow furrowed. “The boy is out of line. Can’t you even teach him basic manners?” With that, he took my arm and pulled me out. It was the first time Spencer had left a gathering with me in years. In the car, he kept glancing over. I ignored him, speaking casually into the navigation app. “Route me to the nearest florist.” Spencer’s eyes brightened, his voice softening. “You didn't forget.” He reached out to take my hand. “Happy Anniversary, Evelyn.” I paused mid-text, looking up at him blankly. His hand, hovering between the seats, froze. After a painful second, he managed to choke out the words. “Today. It’s our eighth wedding anniversary.” I stared at my phone. Two years ago, I had booked the restaurant a month in advance, invited everyone. He’d sent a brief text: Studying with the kid. Can’t make it. I'd later seen a photo on social media of him lighting up the Chicago skyline to celebrate his thirty-day anniversary with Piper. “Don’t test me, Spencer,” I said, flatly. “You've never cared about these things.” His face darkened. He gave a cold laugh. “So, who are the flowers for, then?” I sighed, exhausted. “I’m going to see my mother.” His expression instantly went stone-cold. The shrill ring of his phone cut the tension. “Spencer, it’s late. Are you coming to take Piper home?” His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Tell her I’m going to the memorial park. It’s not on the way.” Before the engine could even turn over, Piper slammed into the space behind the car. “Spencer! Jamie ate a mango sorbet! He’s having an allergic reaction! Hurry, the hospital!” I threw my door open and sprinted back. Jamie’s face was covered in a rash, his breathing ragged. I reached to scoop him up, but Spencer subtly blocked me, pulling Jamie into his own arms. As I brushed past them, I heard my son’s voice, weak but laced with pure disgust. “Daddy would never go see that dead person with you. That's bad luck.” My heart seized up, violently. Jamie’s first mango allergy attack was when he was three. I’d stayed by his bedside for two days straight without sleep. His little face was swollen, but he used his feverish fingers to wipe away my tears. “Mommy, don't cry… If you cry, Jamie’s heart hurts.” He'd pointed to his chest. Since then, he hadn't touched a single mango, all to keep me from worrying. Now, he would willingly hurt himself to validate his need for his new mother. Piper knelt down, fastening Jamie’s shoe. Spencer was wiping his face. They moved with a seamless, practiced synchronicity. The un-departed guests looked on, their gazes a mix of pity and scorn. “Don’t take it to heart, Evie. He's sick; he'll always gravitate toward the person who cares for him most.” “Right. Piper’s been looking after him for years. It's natural they're closer.” “Where are you headed? Want a ride?” I checked my phone. I’d hailed an Uber the second Piper appeared. I was done waiting to be abandoned. The suburban memorial park. I walked toward my mother’s headstone, my bouquet clutched tight, but saw several shadowy figures surrounding the plot. My stomach dropped. I rushed forward. When I got closer, the smell of copper and rot hit me. Two burly men were scrubbing thick, scarlet chicken blood onto the tombstone and the photograph! “You homewrecker! We finally found you!” “If this old woman hadn’t meddled, my father wouldn’t be a vegetable right now!” They saw me and their eyes turned vicious. I lunged to protect my mother’s portrait, but one of them grabbed me and flung me aside. “A life for a life! She’s dead, so you pay the debt!” I tried to reach for my phone to dial 911, but a heavy boot slammed into my abdomen. I crumpled, curling into a ball against the cold granite. A searing pain exploded in my belly. “We can’t reach her husband… the blood loss is too much, she might lose the baby.” The doctor’s voice was faint, drifting in and out of my consciousness. I froze. My fingers trembled as I touched my lower stomach. My phone screen was still lit up. A recent message from my father. The contract is concluded. You have paid the price for your defiance. Return now to assume your position. Leave behind what you should not keep, and take only what is yours. I had thought he meant the assets and connections. Only now did I grasp the true, cruel meaning of the last sentence. The eight wasted years. And this child, who should never have been conceived in this broken marriage. I forced my eyes open, signing the consent form for the procedure. When I woke up again, I was in a recovery room. My stomach churned. I practically tumbled off the bed, staggering into the bathroom to dry heave. Outside the door, Jamie’s cold, young voice rang out. “What are you doing here?” “I don’t need you to take care of me. Go away.” I looked out. Spencer and Jamie, the two people I had once adored, were surrounding Piper, laughing. Jamie was the one who had spotted me first. Spencer heard him and turned, clearly startled. He gave an awkward cough. Piper stood with a small, knowing smile, waiting for me to scream and demand answers, as I always had. Instead, I rubbed my temples, utterly spent, my voice flat and unfamiliar even to my own ears. “Relax. I’m just passing through.” I simply didn’t have the energy to care. I dug my nails deep into my palms, forcing myself back to the bed. I pulled a folder from under my pillow and handed it to Spencer. “Those men maliciously vandalized my mother’s grave and slandered her reputation.” I stated. “I am suing them.” Spencer took the files. When his eyes fell on the crime scene photos, his pupils constricted slightly. He knew the faces. Years ago, my father vehemently opposed my relationship with a penniless law student. I broke all ties with him, ran away from Las Vegas, and eloped with Spencer to Chicago. Only my mother visited, handing Spencer her life savings to start his practice. The year Jamie was born, a client came seeking revenge against Spencer with a knife. My mother shoved the attacker away, taking the blade herself. She never woke up. Spencer was silent for a few seconds. He finally nodded. “I’ll take the case myself. Don’t worry.” He looked at my pale face, his voice low. “The hearing is tomorrow. When we win, I'll give you a proper wedding. Everything I owe you, I will repay, piece by piece.” I paused. A sudden, desolate laugh threatened to bubble up. The wedding I'd waited eight years for? I didn't want it anymore. The next day, in the courtroom. The opposing counsel, all smiles and sycophantic deference, addressed me. “Mrs. Blackwood, why drag Mr. Blackwood into a petty civil matter? If you’re willing to settle, we can offer compensation…” “I don’t want compensation,” I said, coolly. “I want justice.” The lawyer grimaced and retreated. But when the judge’s gavel struck, declaring, “Insufficient evidence, plaintiff’s claim denied,” the figure I had waited for never appeared. Spencer Blackwood had stood me up, again. I watched, numb, as the defendant rushed out, scattering flyers—white paper covered in vile slander against my mother. I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. I distinctly heard him lower his voice to a co-conspirator: “Lawyer Blackwood didn’t show up, just as Ms. Wells predicted three years ago. When the old woman blocked the knife, she shoved my father, and he intentionally fell onto that rebar.” “He’s a vegetable, but Ms. Wells paid us a huge sum.” “When she becomes Mrs. Blackwood, the perks will be even better.” My head exploded. A deliberate act. I ran out, spotting Spencer emerging from an adjacent courtroom. I lunged at him, grabbing his collar, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Why, Spencer?! Why didn’t you come?!” His breath hitched as he met my raw, desperate gaze. The next second, Jamie barreled into me, pushing me away violently. “Go away! Don’t touch Daddy!” “Ms. Piper took me to the bookstore this morning, and they overcharged her two dollars and fifty cents! We were here to get justice for Ms. Piper!” Two dollars and fifty cents. I stood there, frozen, my blood turning to ice. Piper stepped in front of Spencer. “Evie-Sis, calm down! Your mother… she did push someone, didn’t she? That’s what started it.” I lost control. I slapped the failed court verdict, the damning piece of paper, hard across her face! Pages scattered. Jamie immediately shielded Piper, glaring at me with pure hatred. Spencer’s brow locked down, the air pressure around him plummeting. “Evelyn,” his voice was arctic. “Stop it.” “Your mother is dead.” He paused. “The dead don't matter as much as the living.” The sentence was a razor-sharp blade, slashing through my last vestige of hope. I laughed, the sound mingling with cold, streaming tears. I shrieked, fighting with every ounce of strength left in me. “My mother’s death wasn’t an accident! It was Piper! She hired those men for revenge, she killed my mother!” Spencer visibly stumbled backward, then let out a derisive, hollow laugh. “Hah. Evelyn, the act is over? You finally couldn’t keep up the pretense of being the magnanimous wife?” “You're trying to use every trick in the book to drive Piper away, just like you always have!” He looked down at me. “Admit it, you care. You're consumed with jealousy.” I clutched his sleeve. “Please, Spencer. Just check again! Just once! Tomorrow, the day after, whenever you can! I can find the evidence! Piper is the killer!” Spencer’s eyes softened momentarily. He reached to pull me up. Piper rose gracefully, leaning weakly on the stair rail. “Evie-Sis, I love Spencer, and I love Jamie. I’d give them everything.” Her voice was fragile. “But I know I’m not worthy. I only ever wanted to be there for them silently… If my presence is truly intolerable, I’ll resign immediately!” She reached for my hand. I jerked away. “Don’t touch me. You’re disgusting.” Spencer’s eyes hardened. He let out a cold chuckle. “Evelyn, you’ve been with me since you were sixteen. How clean can you possibly be?” The words carved a void in my chest. I felt a freezing, desolate wind rush through the empty space. Seeing my scarlet eyes, Spencer instantly softened his tone. “That’s not what I meant…” He frowned. “You look terrible. Our wedding is coming up. I’ll hire the best nutritionist to get you in shape.” A flash of venom crossed Piper’s eyes. She stepped forward, pulling a small porcelain urn from her bag. “Oh, Evie-Sis, speaking of that, thanks to you, I got a little Goat's milk powders to help me recover.” My gaze fell on the urn. I froze. Buried in the white powder, a tiny ring glimmered—the delicate eternity band I had hand-engraved and placed in my mother’s cremation urn years ago! Piper leaned close to my ear, her voice a chilling whisper. “Evie-Sis, your mom’s grave got a little dirty, so I had her moved for a breather.” She smiled triumphantly. “She walked in on Spencer and me. She was going to tell you, so I had her removed. You wanted the killer? You are the cause of her death.” “AAAAH—!” I screamed, lunging for the urn! Piper suddenly seemed to lose her footing and tumbled backward down the steps. “Ms. Piper!” Jamie’s small figure flew forward, trying to break her fall. The porcelain urn slipped from Piper's hand and shattered on the marble floor. My knees buckled. I fell to the ground, surrounded by powder and glittering fragments. The next second, a powerful kick sent me sprawling. “Evelyn, are you insane?!” Spencer’s forehead was veined with fury. “You have to fight for everything? Even some damned Goat's milk powders that Piper wanted?” I laughed through my tears. Jamie stood up, shouting for all the surrounding onlookers to hear. “I want to cut ties with you! I don’t want this crazy woman as my mother!” Spencer took a deep, shaky breath. “Aggravated assault.” He stated into his phone, his voice a block of ice. “Three days, then I'll pick you up.” “Go in there and reflect on what you’ve done. The wedding… we’ll talk once you’ve figured things out.” The three of them walked away, journalists flocking to their heels, leaving me alone in the shattered glass and powder. That night, Spencer couldn't shake the image of Evelyn’s last look—hollow, utterly lifeless. A strange, cold dread crept into him. He finally picked up his phone. “Hello, Detective Lee? Can you arrange a visit? I’d like to see Evelyn Benjamin tomorrow.” A few seconds of silence on the other end. “Evelyn? Lawyer Blackwood, your wife was put into the transport vehicle, but she never made it to the precinct. She was intercepted halfway by the Benjamin family with formal bail documents.” “Wait… you didn’t know?”
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