This would be my house now. Mine alone.

In the bedroom, I stripped the sheets and threw them in the trash. Ordered new ones online. Expensive ones that Darren would have called frivolous.

In his office, I boxed up his things with clinical efficiency. Law books, diplomas, the photo of us on our wedding day. All of it went into boxes labeled «Cheater» in thick black marker.

By noon, I’d erased him from three rooms. By evening, the house felt almost clean again. Almost.

Three days later, I met my mother for coffee. She’d been calling non-stop, and I finally agreed just to stop the harassment. She looked like she’d aged ten years. Her usually perfect hair was limp, her makeup minimal. The mother who’d always had everything together was falling apart.

«You look terrible,» I said, sitting down across from her.

«Grace…» Her voice was reproachful but weak.

«Just being honest. Isn’t that what we’re doing now?»

She stirred her coffee with shaking hands. «Your sister is staying with us.»

«How nice for her.»

«She’s devastated. Cries all day. Won’t eat.»

«Morning sickness will do that.»

«Grace, please. She’s your sister.»

«Was,» I corrected. «She was my sister. Now she’s just the woman who slept with my husband.»

«She made a mistake.»

«Stop calling it that!» I slammed my hand on the table, making her jump. «A mistake is accidental. What they did was deliberate. Calculated. Multiple times.»

«She loves him,» my mother said quietly.

«And?»

«And he loves her.»

I stared at her. «Is that supposed to make it better? That they fell in love while betraying me?»

«No, but…»

«But nothing. Love isn’t an excuse. It’s not a free pass to hurt people. What about forgiveness?»

«What about loyalty?» I countered. «What about trust? What about basic fucking decency?»

An elderly couple at the next table looked over disapprovingly. I didn’t care.

«I raised you girls better than this,» my mother said, tears in her eyes.

«Did you? Because one of us turned out to be a homewrecker and the other turned out to be a fool who didn’t see it coming.»

«You’re not a fool.»

«No? Then what do you call someone who helps plan her sister’s wedding while she’s sleeping with her husband?»

My mother reached across the table, trying to take my hand. I pulled away. «Grace, holding on to this anger will only hurt you.»

«Wrong. It’s keeping me sane. It’s keeping me strong. And it’s keeping me from making the same mistake twice.»

«Which is?»

«Trusting the wrong people.»

She flinched. «You can’t go through life not trusting anyone.»

«Watch me.»

We sat in silence, the coffee growing cold between us.

«The baby,» she said finally. «What about the baby?»

«What about it? It’s innocent in all this.»

«So was I.»

«Grace… if it’s Darren’s, he can pay child support. If it’s James’s, that’s between him and Linda. Either way, it’s not my problem.»

«It’s your family.»

«I don’t have a family anymore,» I said, standing up. «I have parents who enable their youngest daughter’s destructive behavior and a sister who takes whatever she wants. That’s not family. That’s just people I’m unfortunately related to.»

I left her crying at the table. It should have made me feel guilty. It didn’t.

The divorce lawyer’s name was Sandra Lee, and she was exactly what I needed: ruthless, efficient, and expensive.

«Adultery is grounds for fault divorce in this state,» she explained, reviewing the evidence I’d brought. «With this documentation, we can make a strong case.»

«I want everything,» I said. «The house, the cars, half his retirement.»

«That’s… aggressive.»

«He was aggressive when he slept with my sister. I’m just responding in kind.»

Sandra smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. I liked her immediately.

«There’s also the matter of his suspension from work,» she noted. «If he’s terminated, it could affect his ability to pay.»

«Then we’d better move fast.»

«My thoughts exactly.»

We spent three hours strategizing. By the end, Darren would be lucky to keep the clothes on his back.

«What about your sister?» Sandra asked as we wrapped up. «Any legal action there?»

«Like what?»

«Alienation of affection. It’s still recognized in this state.»

I considered it. Suing Linda for destroying my marriage. It had a certain poetic justice. «Maybe,» I said. «Let me think about it.»

«Don’t think too long. Statute of limitations and all that.»

I left her office feeling powerful. For four months, I’d been the victim. Now I was the one in control.

My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number. «Grace, it’s James. Can we talk?»

I stared at the message for a long moment before responding. «Corner cafe. One hour.»

James looked like I felt: hollowed out, exhausted, aged by betrayal. He stood when I approached, ever the gentleman even in disaster.

«Thank you for meeting me,» he said.

«We’re members of the same club now,» I replied, sitting down. «The cheated-on-spouses club. Membership benefits include trust issues and the inability to sleep.»

He laughed bitterly. «Don’t forget the constant replaying of every moment, looking for signs you missed.»

«Were there signs?»

He nodded slowly. «Looking back? Yes. The way she’d light up when your name came up. How she always wanted to know if Darren would be at family events. I thought she was just trying to be close to your family.»

«She got close alright.»

We ordered coffee, two broken people finding comfort in shared misery.

«The baby,» he said finally. «I don’t know what to do about the baby.»

«Do you want it to be yours?»

«Yes. No. Both.» He rubbed his face. «If it’s mine, how do I raise a child with someone I can’t trust? If it’s not…»

«Then you’re free.»

«Am I? Can you just walk away from someone you loved? Even after this?»

I thought about it. «Yes. It’s hard, but yes. The person I loved never existed. He was a character Darren played. The real Darren, the one who could do this? I don’t love him at all.»

«I keep thinking about the wedding night,» James said. «If you hadn’t said anything…»

«You’d be living a lie.»

«Maybe. But I’d be happy.»

«No,» I said firmly. «You’d be ignorant. That’s not the same as happy.»

He stared into his coffee. «She wants to work it out. Keeps calling, texting. Says it was just pre-wedding jitters that went too far.»

«Do you believe that?»

«I don’t know what to believe anymore.»

«Then believe the evidence. The photos. The timeline. The fact that she was willing to let you raise another man’s child.»

«We don’t know…»

«James.» I reached across the table and touched his hand. «You know. Deep down, you know.»

He started crying then, this successful, confident man reduced to tears in a coffee shop. «I bought a crib,» he whispered. «The day after she told me. I was so happy.»

I squeezed his hand, saying nothing. Sometimes there were no words.

«What are you going to do?» he asked when he’d composed himself.

«Divorce Darren. Take everything I can. Start over.»

«And Linda?»

«Linda doesn’t exist for me anymore.»

«Just like that?»

«Just like that.»

He studied me with red-rimmed eyes. «You’re stronger than me.»

«No,» I said. «I’m just angrier.»

Two weeks after the wedding, Linda did something I didn’t expect. She got a paternity test.

My mother delivered the news, showing up at my door uninvited and unwelcome. «She wants you to know she’s doing the right thing,» mom said, standing on my porch because I wouldn’t let her in.

«The right thing would have been not sleeping with my husband.»

«She’s getting the test, Grace. To know for sure.»

«How responsible of her. The results will be back next week.»

«I don’t care.»

«Yes, you do,» my mother said quietly. «You care so much it’s eating you alive.»

«What’s eating me alive is betrayal. Not curiosity about my husband’s bastard.»

She flinched at the harsh word. «That’s your niece or nephew you’re talking about.»

«No. It’s Linda’s baby. Nothing to do with me.»

«Grace…»

I shut the door in her face. I was getting good at that.

But she was right. I did care. I hated that I cared, but I needed to know. Needed that final piece of the puzzle.

Darren had been served with divorce papers the week before. He tried to contest them, but Sandra was too good. The evidence was overwhelming.

His lawyer, a junior associate from his former firm—the only one who would take his case—had advised him to settle. «Just give her what she wants,» I’d overheard him say during a phone call to Darren. I’d been at the bank, separating our accounts, when Darren called his lawyer in the parking lot. «You’re lucky she’s not pressing criminal charges for the financial fraud.»

Financial fraud. Such a clinical term for stealing from his company to fund his affair.

The test results would determine how much child support got factored into our divorce settlement. If the baby was his, he’d be paying for 18 years.

Part of me hoped it was his. The vindictive part that wanted him to suffer. Part of me hoped it wasn’t. The human part that didn’t want an innocent child connected to this mess. All of me wished none of this had happened.

The call came on a Tuesday. Not to me; I’d made it clear I wanted no contact. But news travels fast in small towns, especially scandalous news.

I was at the grocery store when I overheard two women talking in the next aisle.

«Did you hear about the Patterson girl? The paternity test came back.»

«No. Whose is it?»

«The husband’s. The sister’s husband. Can you imagine?»

I abandoned my cart and left, driving home on autopilot. So. Darren was going to be a father after all. Just not with me.

The house was quiet when I got home. I’d gotten used to the silence, but sometimes it still startled me. All those years of planning for children, and now Darren would have one. With her.

I poured a glass of wine—it was five o’clock somewhere—and sat on the porch swing where Darren had proposed nine years ago. Young, stupid kids who thought love conquered all.

My phone rang. Sandra.

«I heard,» she said without preamble. «This actually works in our favor. Child support obligations will reduce his available assets, but it also strengthens the adultery claim.»

«How much?»

«Based on his income? Assuming he gets another job at his previous level? About $3,000 a month. For 18 years. Longer if the child goes to college.»

I did the math. Over half a million dollars. Plus whatever Linda would squeeze out of him along the way.

«Good,» I said.

«You sound awfully calm.»

«I knew it was his. The timing was too perfect for it not to be.»

«Still. Confirmation hits different.»

«Yes, it did.» It hit like a sledgehammer to the chest. But I’d gotten good at not showing pain. «What’s next?»

«We push for a quick settlement. He’s got no leverage now. Between the affair, the fraud, and the baby, he’ll give us anything to make this go away.»

«Then let’s end it.»

After I hung up, I sat on the swing until the sun set, remembering all the times we’d talked about children. How Darren wanted a boy to play catch with. How I wanted a girl to braid her hair.

Now he’d have a child with my sister. And I’d have this empty house and the satisfaction of revenge. It didn’t feel like enough anymore.

Linda showed up a week later. I was in the garden, pulling weeds with perhaps more violence than necessary, when I heard her car in the driveway. I knew it was her; I recognized the engine.

I didn’t look up when she approached. Just kept ripping weeds from the earth.

«Grace.»

I said nothing.

«Please. I need to talk to you.»

«No, you need to feel better about yourself. That’s not my job anymore.»

«I’m keeping the baby.»

«Congratulations.»

«It’s Darren’s.»

«I know.»

«He wants to be involved.»

«How modern.»

She was quiet for a moment. I could feel her watching me, probably noting my unwashed hair and the dirt under my fingernails. The perfect sister finally falling apart.

«I’m sorry,» she said finally.

«No, you’re not.»

«I am. I never meant…»

«You’re sorry you got caught. You’re sorry there were consequences. You’re sorry your perfect wedding was ruined and your husband left and now you’re going to be a single mother. But you’re not sorry you did it.»

«That’s not true.»

«Did you think about me at all?» I finally looked up at her. She was wearing one of my old college sweatshirts. The sight of it made me furious. «When you were in bed with him, did you think about me even once?»

Her silence was answer enough. «That’s what I thought.»

«I loved him,» she whispered.

«So did I.»

«No, I mean… I really loved him. Four years. Before you even met him.»

I stared at her. «What?»

«I saw him first. At that bar downtown. I was going to talk to him but then you came back from the bathroom and he noticed you instead. And I just… I let it happen. I introduced you.»

The world tilted. «You’re lying.»

«I’m not. I’ve loved him since the beginning. Watched you date him, marry him, build a life with him. And I tried to be happy for you. I tried so hard.»

«So you waited eight years to make your move?»

«I didn’t plan it. But that night at the engagement party, we were talking and drinking and he said I looked beautiful and… I’d waited so long. I was weak.»

«Weak,» I repeated. «That’s your excuse? You were weak?»

«I don’t have an excuse. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t meaningless. It wasn’t just sex. I love him.»

«And he loves you?»

She looked away. «He says he does. But… but he loves you more. He wants to work things out with you.»

«Too bad. That ship has sailed and sunk.»

«Grace, please. If you won’t forgive me, at least forgive him. You two were so good together.»

«Were we? Were we really? Because a man who was so good with me wouldn’t have slept with my sister.»

«Twice.»

«It was more than twice,» she said quietly.

I closed my eyes. «How many times?»

«I don’t know. A dozen? More? It went on for two months before the wedding.»