Chapter 2 - First-Class Delusions
Miles away, hurtling through the icy heartland of the country at seventy miles per hour, Kevin Rinaldi was living his absolute best life. He stretched his long legs out across the plush carpeting of the first-class sleeper compartment, a crystal flute of sparkling cider cradled in his hand. Across from him, wrapped in an oversized designer cashmere shawl that cost more than a month of groceries, his sister Mia scrolled lazily through her phone, giggling over a text message.
"Do you think she’s actually standing the whole time?" Mia asked, taking a sip of her drink with a dismissive smirk. "I mean, six months pregnant? Won't she pass out or something?"
"Let her complain," Kevin scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "Emily has always been too dramatic about her health. A little standing will toughen her up. Besides, what choice did she have? Every ticket was sold out. It’s her own fault for not booking earlier."
In truth, there had never been a shortage of tickets. Kevin had simply chosen to buy only two first-class passes—one for himself and one for Mia—because he wanted a quiet, carefree trip without his pregnant wife cramping his style. For months, Kevin had been playing a double life, whispering sweet nothings to his corporate mistress in Boston while coming home to a wife who cooked his meals and folded his laundry. He figured packing Emily off to the back of a freezing train was a clever way to keep her out of his hair for a few days while he entertained Mia and met up with his secret lover at their final stop.
His phone buzzed on the small mahogany table between them. It was a notification from the train's food service app.
"Check this out," Kevin laughed, picking up his phone. "I texted her fifteen minutes ago telling her to run out in the freezing cold at the Milwaukee stop and buy us some hot food. Let’s see if she actually did it."
Mia leaned over, her eyes sparkling with malicious amusement. "If she brings back cheap diner coffee, I'm going to scream. Tell her she needs to get us pastries from that artisan bakery near the station."
Kevin typed out a quick, demanding command: Make sure the pastries are warm. Don't embarrass me. He hit send, leaning back against the plush cushions with a smug, self-satisfied grin.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. The train picked up speed, bypassing local stations as the snow grew heavier outside the frosted windows.
"Strange," Kevin muttered, frowning slightly as his message remained unread. "She usually replies instantly."
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"Oh, stop worrying," Mia rolled her eyes, adjusting her shawl. "She's probably freezing her fingers off and struggling to use her phone. She'll bring the food when the conductor lets coach passengers move through the cars later. Honestly, Kevin, you worry too much about her. She’s totally under your thumb."
Kevin nodded slowly, reassuring himself that Mia was right. Emily was gentle, quiet, and entirely dependent on him. She had nowhere to go, no wealthy family to bail her out, and no spine to stand up to him. He took another sip of his drink, completely blind to the fact that the woman he thought he controlled had already slipped completely through his fingers.
