Chapter 1 - The Men in Grey Suits
The chime of the doorbell lingered in the heavy air of the dining room. Ethan threw his linen napkin onto his half-eaten steak, his brow furrowing with a mix of irritation and confusion.
"Who the hell is that at this hour?" he muttered, casting a sharp glance toward me.
I didn't blink. I simply took a slow sip of water with my left hand, the cold glass soothing my parched throat. Beside me, my broken right arm throbbed in its sling, a burning reminder of the man he was.
"Go check it, Ethan," Victoria said, waving her hand dismissively. "Probably a delivery driver who got the wrong estate. Make sure you don't let the cold air in."
Ethan rose from the chair—the expensive leather chair my salary had bought—and walked out of the dining room. His heavy footsteps echoed across the polished marble of the foyer. Natalie leaned forward, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me across the walnut table.
"You're acting weird, Valerie," Natalie sneered, swirling the last of her red wine. "What's that smug look for? You think a broken arm makes you a martyr? You brought this on yourself when you locked the accounts."
"I think," I said quietly, my voice steady and devoid of the fear they expected, "that you should enjoy that wine. It’s the last expensive thing you’ll taste for a very long time."
Before Natalie could fire back an insult, the sound of raised voices erupted from the foyer.
"You can't just walk in here! Who do you think you are?" Ethan’s voice had lost its relaxed confidence. It was shrill, laced with panic.
The heavy double doors of the dining room swung open. Ethan was pushed backward into the room, flanked by two uniform police officers and a tall, sharp-featured woman in a tailored charcoal suit. She held a leather folder tightly against her chest.
"Valerie Hayes?" the woman asked, looking directly past the in-laws to find me.
"Yes, Detective Miller," I replied, standing up slowly, supporting the weight of my cast with my left hand.
"What is the meaning of this?" Victoria shrieked, slamming her wineglass onto the table. "This is private property! Get these people out of my house!"
"Actually, ma'am, it isn't your house," Detective Miller said, pulling a certified document from her folder. "And as of twenty minutes ago, it’s a crime scene. Ethan Vance, you are under arrest for felony domestic violence, aggravated assault, and witness intimidation."
May you like
Ethan's face drained of color so fast he looked like a corpse in a tux. He looked at the handcuffs clicking off an officer's belt, then looked at me, his jaw trembling. "Valerie... you told the doctors you fell."
"I told the doctors what I needed to tell them to get out of that hospital alive, Ethan," I said, stepping away from the table. "But I told the police the absolute truth."
