Chapter 2 - The Parlor Trick
The grandfather clock in the foyer chimed eight times. Julian’s muffled cursing upstairs had devolved into desperate thuds against the reinforced oak door. He had even tried turning on the master suite intercom, but I had calmly disconnected the circuit breaker for the upstairs automation system from the basement panel ten minutes ago. Now, he and Mia were trapped in warm, damp darkness, dressed only in dripping towels and sheer panic.
Downstairs, I transformed our open-concept kitchen and living room into a stage. I set out the charcuterie board I had prepared earlier that afternoon, arranged the crystal wine glasses, and lit the centerpiece candles on the ten-person mahogany dining table. I pulled my hair into a sleek chignon, traded my house slippers for four-inch Louboutin heels, and reapplied crimson lipstick in the entryway mirror.
My reflection looked entirely unfamiliar. The soft-spoken, self-effacing woman who had spent a decade dimming her light so Julian could shine was gone. In her place stood a woman with ice running through her veins.
At eight twenty-five, tires crunched over the gravel driveway. Headlights swept across our floor-to-ceiling bay windows.
I took a deep, steadying breath. Through the peephole, I watched Julian’s family arrive in a unified pack. Beatrice was leading the charge, wrapped in her signature vintage mink coat despite the mild autumn breeze. Beside her was Julian’s younger sister, Natalie, clutching a designer handbag I had bought her for her birthday. Behind them trailed Arthur, Julian’s perpetually quiet father, and Uncle Richard, the family’s self-appointed patriarch who handled their dwindling family investments.
I swung the front door wide open with a radiant smile plastered across my face.
“Beatrice! Natalie! Come in, please!” I said, stepping aside and gesturing into the warm foyer. “Thank you all so much for coming on such short notice. You know how sentimental Julian gets about milestones.”
Beatrice eyed me with sharp, calculating eyes as she crossed the threshold. Her gaze swept over the pristine living room, lingering on the staircase that led upstairs. “Harper, dear. You sounded breathless on the phone. Where is my son? Why isn't he greeting us?”
“Oh, Julian is upstairs preparing the final touch for the evening,” I said smoothly, taking Beatrice’s coat and hanging it up. “You know him—always wanting everything to look picture-perfect. He asked me to entertain everyone down here first with our ten-year retrospective.”
Natalie scoffed softly, dropping onto the velvet sofa and checking her phone. “Honestly, Harper, dragging us out on a Tuesday night? Some of us have early appointments tomorrow. Julian could have just made a dinner reservation like a normal person.”
“I promise you, Natalie, this will be far more entertaining than any dinner reservation,” I said, walking behind the marble kitchen island and uncorking a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. “Julian insisted that before we toast, I show the family the anniversary video I put together. A collection of our most intimate moments over the last decade.”
Beatrice shifted uncomfortably, clutching her wine glass without taking a sip. “Harper... have you and Julian had any disagreements today? He seemed... preoccupied when we spoke this afternoon.”
I tilted my head, looking directly into Beatrice’s eyes. “Preoccupied? Why would he be? He has a loving wife, a beautiful house that my family paid for, and complete freedom. What could possibly be troubling him, Beatrice?”
Beatrice looked away, unable to hold my gaze for more than a second. “Well, marriage is complex. Ten years is a long time. People change. Needs change.”
“They certainly do,” I agreed cheerfully. I walked over to the sixty-five-inch OLED TV mounted above the fireplace and picked up the wireless remote. “In fact, our needs changed dramatically just about two hours ago.”
I pointed the remote at the TV and clicked AirPlay.
May you like
The screen flickered, connecting directly to my iPad on the kitchen counter. Above us, the muffled sound of a heavy brass object striking the master bathroom door reverberated through the ceiling. Arthur looked up, frowning. “Did you hear that? Sounds like someone's hammering up there.”
“Just the automated pipes settling,” I smiled, hitting Play. “Now, please, sit back. The show is about to start.”
