The sun was rising when I finally left my office, casting long, skeletal shadows across the waking city. I had not slept. Sleep was a luxury I could no longer afford. I had spent the night laying the groundwork for Richard's demise, every keystroke a nail in his coffin. Now came the hardest part: returning to the scene of the crime and playing the role of the loving wife one last time.
I let myself into the apartment. It was as silent and sterile as I had left it. I showered, the hot water washing away the grime of the night but doing nothing to cleanse the chill that had settled deep in my bones. I put on another one of Jane's simple, unassuming outfits—a soft beige sweater and slacks. I made coffee, the familiar, domestic ritual a bizarre counterpoint to the cold fury simmering just beneath my skin.
Richard came out of the bedroom, yawning, looking boyishly handsome in his silk pajamas. He smiled when he saw me, a lazy, confident smile that made me want to shatter the coffee pot in my hand.
"Morning, darling," he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind and kissing my neck. I had to force myself not to flinch. His touch, once a comfort, now felt like a violation. "You were out early. Everything okay?"
"Just a walk," I lied, my voice a perfect imitation of Jane's gentle tone. "I wanted to clear my head before your big day."
"That's my girl," he said, releasing me and taking the cup of coffee I offered. He was buzzing with energy, high on his impending success and his secret triumph. "Today's the day, Janey. After this meeting, everything changes. For us."
For us. The words were a vile poison. I smiled, a placid, supportive expression I had perfected over six years. It was a mask, and I was grateful for it. Without it, he would have seen the murder in my eyes.
"I know you'll be amazing," I said, my voice full of fake adoration.
The next few hours were an exercise in supreme self-control. I made him breakfast, just as I always did. I listened as he rehearsed his key talking points, nodding and offering encouraging words. All the while, my mind was a whirlwind of calculations. His personal accounts are linked to the corporate Amex. First, I'll have the credit line frozen. His car is leased through a subsidiary I can flag for an audit. He'll lose it by the end of the week.
He talked about the vacation we would take after the deal was done, a trip to the Maldives he'd been promising for years. "A private villa, just the two of us. You deserve it, after all your hard work," he said, stroking my hair.
I smiled up at him. "It sounds like a dream." By the time you could afford that ticket, you'll be lucky to have a bus pass, I thought, the viciousness of it a secret thrill.
The most difficult moment came just as he was about to leave. He pulled me into a hug, a tight, possessive embrace. "I love you, Jane," he whispered into my hair.
For a fraction of a second, the mask almost slipped. The sheer, breathtaking audacity of that lie nearly made me gasp. He loved the convenience I provided. He loved the support I offered. He loved the idea of the simple, adoring wife who made his life easy. But he did not love me. He didn't even know me.
I pulled back, my smile perfectly in place. "I love you too, Richard. Go get them."
He left, whistling, a man without a care in the world, walking toward a future he believed was his for the taking. I watched the door close behind him, and the moment it clicked shut, my smile vanished. My face became a blank slate of cold, calculating resolve.
I walked through the apartment, our home, and saw it now for what it was: a stage set. Every object—the photos of us smiling on vacation, the minimalist furniture he'd picked out, the single orchid on the counter—was a prop in a six-year play. A play in which I had been the unwitting star, and the only one who didn't know the script.
I looked at the smiling woman in the photographs, the woman with my face but not my eyes. Jane Sterling. She was a ghost now, and this was her haunting ground. But the haunting was almost over. I picked up my phone, my fingers steady. It was time to make the call. It was time to bring the curtain down.