Chapter 7
440words
Spencer had given me this house before our wedding. "For your security," he'd said.
I never imagined it would become my only security now.
We'd designed and decorated every inch together, two people madly in love creating their perfect nest.
One wall displayed nothing but photos of us—vacations, anniversaries, quiet moments.
We'd traveled twice yearly, filling memory cards with snapshots of our happiness.
This year, we hadn't gone anywhere. Not once.
Spencer had claimed this was his critical year for receiving that prestigious award—no time for vacations.
The truth? He couldn't bear to be away from Charlotte Lane for more than a day or two.
Each smiling photo felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
I ripped every photo from the wall and dumped them in the trash.
I smashed our wedding portrait and packed everything of his into garbage bags, tossing them outside like the trash they were.
After packing my essentials, I listed the house online at a price that would ensure a quick sale.
After ten years of marriage, I had no clue about Spencer's total assets.
I only had the supplementary credit card he'd given me for "whatever I wanted."
Thankfully, I'd never cared for designer labels—only gold jewelry, which I'd accumulated over the years.
The designer bags were all gifts from Spencer, including several "limited global editions."
I'd spotted those same "limited editions" on Charlotte's private Instagram—gifts he'd given me as afterthoughts.
Now that worked in my favor.
I'd checked—those bags sold for more second-hand than their original price.
I packed every valuable item into my suitcase. They were mine by right anyway.
Just as I zipped the last bag, Spencer walked in.
He froze at the sight of the garbage bags piled by the door.
"What are you doing? Redecorating?"
"Tina, you don't need to do this. I never brought other women to our home!"
He thought I was purging the house of imagined other women.
But those bags contained his belongings. I was throwing him out.
His eyes narrowed at the suitcase by my feet.
"Looking for your sister? I can help with that. You don't need to go yourself."
"She's probably just hiding to cool off. Who actually has the guts to kill themselves?"
A small, sad smile crossed my lips. My sister was timid in most things, but for me, she'd move mountains.
Spencer never understood our bond. Orphaned young, we'd developed a stubborn streak that ran bone-deep.
But I wouldn't waste breath explaining. My lawyer's paperwork would speak for me.
