When wealthy, elegant Evelyn hires Marielle’s husband for repairs, it feels like a blessing, until Marielle learns the truth. Evelyn wants more than just his work. Betrayed but not broken, Marielle makes her move, stepping into Evelyn’s world in a way she never expected.
I stood at the checkout counter, gripping my son’s hand as the cashier punched in the final item. My stomach clenched. $86.74.
Wade tensed beside me, already thumbing through his wallet, one that I knew held more receipts than cash. “I’m sorry, ma’am, sir,” the cashier said, her voice detached, like she’d done this a hundred times today. “But you’re short by fourteen dollars and sixty cents.”
Damn it.
I swallowed my pride, reaching for the gallon of milk to set it aside, the kids needed food more than they needed milk. But before I could remove the gallon, a smooth, confident voice spoke from behind me. “I’ll cover it.
Don’t worry.”
I turned, startled. Who on earth would be so generous? A woman stood there.
She was blonde, elegant, and effortlessly wealthy in a way that made you feel small and insignificant. She smiled, already swiping her card. “No, really, you don’t have to, ma’am,” I started.
“Please,” she interrupted gently. “It’s nothing.”
She handed me the bags, her manicured fingers brushing against mine. “And don’t you know who I am?
I’m Evelyn, your neighbor. I live in the house with the big black gate. I’ve seen your kids play outside.”
I stammered my thanks, my cheeks burning.
Wade nodded stiffly beside me, clearly uncomfortable. Pride was a tricky thing, even if you were drowning. And we were.
We hadn’t always been beneath the water, but recently, things had taken a turn for the worse. Somehow, I found myself continuing to talk to Evelyn. “It’s been tough lately,” I said.
“Wade’s been out of work since his last job wrapped up. That’s just how it is in construction, I guess.”
Evelyn’s eyes sparkled. “Actually, I have a guesthouse that needs some work.
If you’re interested, Wade, I’d love to hire you.”
It felt like a miracle. Finally, a break. “Sure, ma’am,” he said.
“Just let me know what you need. I’ll come and check out the space, and you can tell me what you need.”
For the first time in months, the weight on my chest eased. Weeks passed.
My husband worked long hours at Evelyn’s house, but he always came home with money, and I felt that I could breathe again. I could buy milk for the kids. But also cheese and yogurt.
Even ice cream. They would enjoy being kids again. Then one evening, our son, Tommy, ran into the kitchen.
I was making dinner, grilled chicken and veggies as per Tommy’s request. I was in my happy place. I loved being in a kitchen.
It was where I felt calm and safe. Where I could be creative and have fun in my own way. “Mom!” he said.
“Guess what?”
“Oh, honey,” I replied. “You know how I feel about guessing games.”
“I saw Dad with Mrs. Evelyn.”
“What?” I asked, turning from the sink, my heart beating a mile a second.
Tommy hesitated, his eyebrows twisting. “Mrs. Evelyn sent her gardener to tell me to take Dad’s wrench over.
So, I went to her house to give it to Dad. The door was open, so I peeked inside,” my son swallowed. “She was hugging him, Mom.
And Dad… he didn’t move away. He just stood there.”
My fingers dug into the dish towel.
The room tilted. The kindness. The job.
The perfect timing. It had never been generosity. It had been a game.
That evening, when Wade got home, I was torn between wanting to ask him about it or just waiting for him to bring it up. We sat down to dinner, and Wade dug in with a hunger that made me wonder what exactly he had been doing the entire day. It’s construction, Marielle, I told myself.
It’s hard work. Of course, the man is starving. But still, something felt off.
My husband barely met my eyes. When I made ice cream cones for the kids, he refused to participate, claiming he was tired. Usually, he would be all over the kids, adding shaved chocolate and sprinkles.
“I don’t have the energy for anything else, Marielle,” he said. “Evelyn has a very strict eye. She knows what she wants, and I don’t have a choice but to do it.”
Didn’t have a choice?
Coming from the man who had gotten suspended for a week because his team had refused to do something his way? No. There was something else going on.
There was more to this. When we went to bed, Wade got in and turned to face the wall. Usually, we slept facing each other.
This was different. I couldn’t hold it back anymore, so I just told him what Tommy had said. “Tommy must have seen wrong, Mari,” he said.
“You know that kid, always an overactive imagination. I’m sure he saw her bumping into me while reaching for something. Evelyn is clumsy.”
Liar.
But there he was, lying in bed and chuckling to himself. My son saw some kind of silent hug. And Wade hadn’t pulled away.
Was Evelyn really just keeping us afloat while wanting Wade all to herself? I wouldn’t have been surprised. I’d seen enough TV shows where the rich, older woman finds some poor, younger man to make him her pet project.
Was Wade her project? Were we her pet project? Was she trying to justify her wealth and actions by making sure that we had food on the table and money to pay our bills?
What the heck? But that’s when I knew. I would make sure that Evelyn never looked at my husband again.
The next morning, I went to her house. Not to see Evelyn, but to see her husband, Hugo. Hugo answered the door, his brow lifting in mild surprise.
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