Chapter 3

On the eve of Thanksgiving, a rare blizzard hit New York, snarling traffic across the city.

I was in the kitchen roasting a turkey, planning a quiet holiday with just Anna and me.

Howard had already told me he'd be stuck at the office all week, "buried in year-end reports."

At three o'clock, the lock turned. I wiped my hands and walked out of the kitchen.

The door swung open, wind and snow gusting into the living room.

Howard stood there hauling two massive suitcases, Celeste shivering behind him in an expensive cashmere coat, Noah trailing in a pair of limited-edition sneakers.

"Howard. What is this." I stood frozen, staring coldly at the scene.

"Sandra, a pipe burst in Celeste's building and flooded her whole place. Every hotel in the city's booked solid. She's an important client—I couldn't just leave her and her kid out on the street."

Howard brushed the snow off his shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The guest room's empty anyway. Let them stay a few days."

A few days?

He had the audacity to bring his mistress and their son into our home—without so much as a flicker of shame.

I looked at Howard's shameless face and found I couldn't even summon anger anymore. All I felt was a bitter kind of absurdity.

How confident, how contemptuous of me, did he have to be to walk them through our door like they belonged here—like I was the intruder in my own house?

"Hi, Sandra. So sorry to intrude." Celeste stepped forward, peeling off her leather gloves, offering a fragile little smile.

"Howard's always said you were such a kind, generous person. I just didn't know what else to do—"

Before she could finish, Noah had already tracked his slush-covered shoes straight across the wool rug I'd washed just yesterday.

"Whoa, this place is huge!" He charged past her, straight for Anna's toy corner like a little tyrant.

Anna, sitting on the rug drawing, flinched and shrank back against the couch.

Noah spotted the worn stuffed rabbit in her hands and lunged, yanking it away.

"That's mine!" he shouted.

"Give it back! That's my rabbit!" Anna cried, grabbing for it.

Noah shoved her hard. Already frail, she crumpled onto the rug, eyes welling up—but she bit her lip and didn't cry, just looked up at me, helpless.

Something in me snapped. I strode over, pulled her behind me, and wrenched the rabbit from Noah's hands.

"What do you think you're doing!" Celeste shrieked, scooping Noah into her arms, stroking his head with exaggerated tenderness. "Sandra, you're a grown woman—fighting with a child? He just wanted to play!"

"This is my daughter's home. That's her toy. Nobody touches it without asking." I held Celeste's gaze, ice in my voice.

"Sandra! You're being absolutely unreasonable!" Howard stepped between us, shielding Celeste and Noah, glaring at me. "They're our guests! Have you lost your manners? Is it too much to ask Anna to share?"

"Guests?" I looked at him, my mouth curling into a mocking smile. "Howard, are you sure that's all they are?"

Howard's eyes flickered away for a second before hardening again.

"What are you implying? Don't make a scene. Fine—since you insist on making this difficult, I'll throw in an extra hundred toward the house this week. We'll settle it the way we always do—straight down the middle."

A hundred dollars.

I thought about the statements I'd pulled off his laptop—twenty thousand for a private helicopter in Aspen, eighty thousand drained from Anna's education fund.

And now he brings this woman and her son into my house, thinking he can wave it all away with a hundred bucks and the excuse of "splitting costs."

"Fine." To his visible surprise, I nodded without another word. "Since they're guests, make yourselves at home. Guest room's upstairs, on the left."

Howard hadn't expected me to back down so easily. He shot me a suspicious glance, then visibly relaxed, leading Celeste and Noah upstairs.

I watched them disappear up the staircase, my fingers brushing the phone in my pocket—the one with the voice recorder already running.

Howard. You brought this on yourself.

By dinnertime, the atmosphere had curdled into something grotesque. Howard sat at the head of the table, Celeste and Noah to his right, Anna and I to his left.

He carved the most tender slices of turkey breast onto Noah's plate. "Eat up, buddy. You're a growing boy." His voice carried a tenderness I'd never once heard him use before.

Anna's plate held nothing but a few shriveled potatoes.

I didn't say a word—just cut a piece of meat from my own plate and set it on hers.

Celeste watched, the corner of her mouth curling with barely concealed satisfaction. She took an elegant sip of wine, then turned to me, casual as if commenting on the weather.

"Sandra, Howard mentioned he's been carrying the mortgage all by himself. Must be nice, being a stay-at-home mom—pretty relaxing life. Still, a woman really should have her own career. Otherwise it's so easy to fall out of step with the world."

She was baiting me, provoking me with the poise of a woman who already thought she owned the house.

I set down my fork and dabbed my mouth with my napkin.

"You're absolutely right. Not every woman can afford a three-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment on a Brooklyn condo with nothing but 'consulting fees.'"

The color drained from Celeste's face. Her glass jerked, wine splashing across the tablecloth.

Howard's expression darkened. He slammed his palm on the table. "Sandra! What the hell are you talking about!"

Noah looked up from his plate, startled by the outburst, and slid off his chair to run to Howard's side, wrapping both arms around his leg.

The room went dead silent.

He tilted his face up—a face eerily like Howard's—pouted, and shouted:

"Daddy, I want to go home!"