The lock clicked open with a heavy, metallic thud. The house smelled different now—heavy perfume and expensive cooking, a stark contrast to the sterile scent of floor wax and bleach I’d grown used to. I slipped my shoes off, creeping quietly across the hardwood floor toward the back stairs.
That’s when I heard the laughter.
It was David’s deep, booming laugh, followed by the high-pitched giggle I remembered from the courtroom.

I crept up the stairs, my heart hammering against my ribs so loudly I was terrified they would hear it. The master bedroom door was cracked open, casting a warm sliver of light across the hallway carpet.
I leaned in, my eye tracing the gap. David was sitting on the edge of our old king-sized bed, wearing a brand-new silk robe. Sarah was sitting cross-legged across from him, holding a crystal flute of champagne. On the vanity behind them lay stacks of legal documents and a giant architectural blueprint.

“To two years of peace,” Sarah said, clinking her glass against his. “I honestly didn’t think she’d survive the whole term without losing her mind. You played the grieving father beautifully, darling.”
“It was easy,” David replied, a smug smirk twisting his face. “The jury swallowed it whole. But the best part is yet to come. Now that the two-year mark hit, the trust fund from her mother’s estate officially becomes eligible for a primary beneficiary buyout if the spouse is deemed legally incapacitated or convicted of a felony involving moral turpitude. The lawyers signed off on the transfer this afternoon.”
Sarah grinned, leaning forward. “And what about her sister? You sure she isn’t going to look into where that money went?”

David let out a dry, chilling chuckle. “Let her look. By the time Clara realizes the accounts are empty, she’ll be dealing with her own set of problems. The same guy who handled the ‘accident’ paperwork for us at the clinic just landed a job at Clara’s accounting firm.

We’re going to make sure a few hundred thousand dollars of client funds find their way into Clara’s personal account by next month. History has a beautiful way of repeating itself.”
I stood in the dark hallway, the clear plastic bag rustling faintly in my grip. My sister, Clara, had been the only person who tried to visit me during my first month in prison before David convinced her that I was mentally unstable and dangerous. They weren’t just satisfied with destroying my life; they were going to ruin my entire family for a payout.