Chapter 17 (1)
Abigail
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For a second, I said nothing, my heart pounding. That wastift true. It couldn’t be. Conrad had given me that jewelry set as his recognition of all my sacrifices. All my hand work. He’d said so himself. The audacity of her words left me speechless. But I wouldn’t let her twist this to her favor.
“You’re pathetic Susanna,” I said finally, my voice steady. Even now, is all you can do lie?”
She stood up abruptly, her face red with anger. Her head tilted as she let out a mocking laugh, the kind that made my skin crawl. “Why would I go through all that trouble, Abigall? What could I possibly gain from this ridiculous scheme?
The room felt like it had shrunk in the suffocating silence following Susanna’s scornful words. I stood there, gripping the file from the police station tightly against my chest. The implications of her words looped in my mind.
I opened my mouth to reply, but she cut me off, her face suddenly flushed either from the effort of lying so brazenly or from some petty satisfaction. “Conrad orders jewelry from that brand for me every year, you know,” she said, a hand sweeping toward the emerald bracelet gleaming on her wrist.
“This year, the set he chose arrived, and the color was wrong. The blue was far too deep–it clashed horribly with my complexion.” Her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “So, I told him to fix it. He had the jeweler create a new set, lighter and more flattering. Custom made. That’s the set I kept.” She sat back down, resting her hand against the back couch. I couldn’t stop looking at the bracelet dangling on her wrist. When had Conrad bought her that? “And what happened to the set I rejected? Oh, wait.” She snapped her fingers mockingly. “That’s the one Conrad gave to you. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?”
The words cut deeper than any insult she’d ever hurled at me. My pulse thundered in my ears as my earlier anger returned, hotter and sharper, but this time there was a more dangerous emotion mixed with it: doubt.
“You’re lying,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what you do when you’re confronted; you lie boldly.”
“Why would I lie?” she countered smoothly. “Think about it. If the set I didn’t want ended up with you, why would I go to such lengths to get it back? I mean, do you really think you’re that important?”
Her tone was so dismissive, so final, that it made my blood boil.She acted as if she’d never shamelessly asked Conrad to take that set of jewelry from me. Or maybe she didn’t ask at all, and it was just Conrad not wanting me to hold onto something he gave to Susanna?My anger boiled like a pot on fire, but this time, it wasn’t at Susanna. It was at Conrad. My earlier determination to expose Susanna for framing me faded under the weight of this new revelation.
Had he truly given me something she had discarded? Was my husband’s gift of appreciation to me nothing more than a hand–me–down, and from Susanna of all people? The thought was humiliating. I needed to hear it from him, to know if this was the kind of man I had married.
I grabbed my phone from my bag, my hands trembling as I dialed his number. The line rang once, twice, three times before going to voicemail.
“Coward,” I muttered, hitting redial. Still no answer. The robotic voice informing me he wasn’t available might as well have been a hammer that was breaking holes in my composure. My throat tightened as I tried one more time, only for the result to be the same.
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Chapter 17 09
When my fourth attempt met the same fate, Susanna let out a derisive laugh from across the room as she saw how frustrated I was becoming
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she sneered “Don’t tell me you’re calling Conrad You just have to make yourself the victim, don’t you? Why would you drag him into this when’s a matter between the two of us?”
Ignoring her, I stared down at my phone, debating whether call him again.
But Susanna wasn’t finished. With a huff, she shoved a throw pillow aside, searching, for her phone as she muttered under her breath. “If you’re going to be like this. d call him myself. Better he hears the truth from me before you twist it into one of your pathetic sob stories.”
I tried calling him again, but just as the robotic voice informed me for the fifth time that my call couldn’t be answered, Susanna let out a triumphant noise, pulling her phone from the edge of the couch. She immediately dialed, and to my shock, Conrad answered on the first ring
“Conrad!” she exclaimed, with just the right amount of hurt and anger. “Oh, thank God you answered, you won’t believe this. Abigail’s lost her mind! She’s accusing me of paying Marcy off to steal my own jewelry. Can you believe that? And for what? For her jewelry? You know, the set I rejected? It’s absurd, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t hear his replies–she hadn’t put the call on speaker–but she didn’t argue or correct herself, which told me all I needed to know. He wasn’t denying her claims.
“Honestly, it’s ridiculous,” she continued. “As if I’d waste my time.”
My chest tightened as the realization dawned on me. She wasn’t just painting me as paranoid; she was confirming the very thing I dreaded most. That set had been meant for her. Conrad hadn’t carefully picked it out for me. No, he had given me a gift she had tossed aside. Embarrassment made my neck and face bloom red.
“Of course, you wouldn’t have thought she’d jump to such conclusions,” Susanna added. “But I suppose some people just have an imagination for drama.”
I could feel her watching me as she spoke, her eyes gleaming with smugness. Conrad hadn’t denied her claims, or at least he hadn’t done so in a way I could hear. Did I mean so little to him? The doubts and insecurities I’d pushed aside for months came rushing back, suffocating me.
“Thank you, Conrad,” she cooed into the phone.
Chapter 17 (2)
Chapter 17 (2)
Abigail
Susanna ended the call with a smug smile, turning her attention back to me.
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“Oh, did you want to talk to him?” she asked, faking surprise. “Sorry about that.” She offered a mock apology, her tone so insincere it made my blood boil.
Then, with her nose in the air, she sauntered out of the rooin, leaving me standing there, gripping the file from the police station in one hand and my phone in the other sightly my knuckles turned white.
My anger felt like a living, breathing thing, threatening to consume me. How dare Conrad do this? How dare he treat me like this? How dare he give me something Susanna had rejected, knowing fully well how I felt about her? My mind replayed every slight, every instance where I’d felt pushed aside or overshadowed since Susanna moved in.
As I wrestled with my emotions, Marceline stepped into the room, her expression searching. From the apologetic look in her eyes, it was clear she’d overheard everything-
my arm. “Don’t let Susanna get to you. That’s exactly what she “Abigail,” she began gently, placing a hand on wants. The worst thing you can do is let this drive a wedge between you and Conrad.” Her words should have been comforting, but they felt empty.
I shook my head, bitter laughter bubbling up in my throat. It’s hard not to, Marceline, when Conrad doesn’t even bother to deny her claims.”
She squeezed my at Talk to him.”
her gaze steady. “You haven’t spoken to him yourself. Don’t rely on Susanna’s words alone.
Before I could reply, my phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down to see Conrad’s name on the screen.
Marceline gave me an encouraging smile. “Answer him. But remember–avoid conflict. That’s exactly what Susanna wants.” Her words were well–meaning, but they weren’t enough to quench the flames of anger burning in my chest.
Still, I forced myself to nod, only out of respect for her. Taking a deep breath, I answered the call.
“Abigail,” Conrad began tightly, “what are you accusing Susanna of now? Wanting your jewelry? Seriously?”
“I can’t do this right now,” I said, my voice just as tight as his. “I’m upset. We’ll talk later.” I ended the call without waiting for his response.
Marceline’s expression was unreadable as I turned to her.
“I need to leave,” I said. “I can’t stay in this house right now.”
She frowned but didn’t press the matter. “Take some time to clear your head. But come back, Abigail. Don’t let her win.”
I thought of how Susanna was all Conrad seemed to prioritize these days. Not me, not his work. “Hasn’t she already won?”
“Abigail”
“Please,” I interrupted, my voice soft but firm. “Excuse me” I turned and headed for the front door, dialing Roxy as I went.
She picked up on the first ring. “Abigail? What’s wrong?”
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Chapter 17 (2)
“Can you pick me up?” I asked, my voice struggling to remain composed, “I need to leave the house. I can’t stay here,”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” she promised without hesitation.
I hung up and waited outside in the courtyard, letting the late afternoon air wash over me. It did little to calm my
nerves.
True to her word, Roxy’s car pulled up in record time, its silver paint gleaming under the sunlight. I waved at her gratefully and climbed into the passenger seat. Before Roxy could even ask what was wrong, my eyes drifted to the house, and I saw her–Susanna. Through the upstairs window, she stood watching, her silhouette framed by the light from the master bedroom. Her eyes met mine, and even from a distance, I could see the satisfaction on her face.
Let her watch, I thought angrily. Let her see that she hadn’broken me yet. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
The driveway was dark except for the glow of the porch light as Conrad pulled in, exhausted after a long day. He turned off the ignition, leaned back for a moment, and exhaled heavily. The weight of the tension in his household hung over him like a storm cloud. All he wanted was to walk inside, have a drink, and maybe talk to Abigail to smooth things over.
But as he stepped out of the car and approached the house, his steps slowed. His mother was standing at the front door, arms crossed, her expression sharper than the night air.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, confused. “Mother, he said, his tone cautious, “what are you doing out here?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Abigail left this afternoon,” she announced, her voice cold and clipped. “And it’s so late now. An hour to midnight. She hasn’t come back.”
Conrad frowned but remained calm. “She’ll be home soon enough,” he said with a shrug. “She’s a grown woman! She can take care of herself.”
Marceline’s eyes flared with anger, and she took a step forward. “She left, Conrad,” she snapped. “Do you not understand what that means? She left. And if she doesn’t come back, it’ll be your fault.”
Conrad pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginnings of a headache forming. “Mother, I’m too tired for this. It’s late. Let me inside.”
Marceline didn’t move. She stood firm, blocking the door with an expression that dared him to try. “You’re not coming in,” she declared, her voice steely.
He blinked at her, incredulous. “What are you talking about?”
She raised her chin. “I’ve locked the back door too. If you want to come inside, you’ll have to fight your way past
- me.
Conrad stared at her, his patience fraying. “This is ridiculous.”
“What’s ridiculous,” Marceline retorted sharply, “is how you’ve treated Abigail. Do you even care about her? Do you care that she’s out there, probably upset, while you’re standing here acting like nothing’s wrong?”
His jaw tightened. “Of course I care,” he snapped. “But I’m not going to chase her down because of some misunderstanding-
“Misunderstanding?” Marceline’s voice rose, cutting him off. “That woman has put up with enough, and now
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Chapter 17 (2)
you’ve insulted her with that jewelry debacle.”
Conrad’s face darkened. “I didn’t insult her. And I don’t know what you and Abigail have been talking about, but I don’t have time for this.” He turned, intending to head around the house to the back door.
“Don’t bother,” Marceline called after him. “Like I said, it’s locked. And if you try to force your way in, I’ll call the police myself.
He stopped in his tracks, turning back to glare at her. “What do you want from me?”
Marceline met his gaze evenly, her voice dropping into a low, commanding tone. “I want you to go find Abigail. Right now. Wherever she is. Talk to her, explain everything to her properly, and fix this. Because if you don’t, Conrad, I’m not letting you back in this house.”
