Chapter 5: The Part Where She Almost Won
Serena made breakfast.
That was the thing I hadn't expected.
I came downstairs to find her at the stove, dressed simply, no jewelry, hair pulled back.
Coffee already made.
Eggs in the pan.
The kind of morning she had never once produced in five years of marriage.
She looked up when I walked in.
"Sit down.
Please."
I sat.
I didn't touch the coffee.
"I know what you found," she said.
She kept her back to me, working the pan.
"And I know how it looks.
I'm not going to insult you by pretending otherwise."
"Then don't."
She turned around.
Her eyes were red.
It may have been real.
With Serena, I had stopped being able to tell.
"I made mistakes," she said.
"Serious ones.
Victor — what happened with Victor was wrong, and I ended it.
Six months ago.
It's over."
"The petition wasn't six months ago."
"I know." She set the pan down.
"That was Victor's idea.
I went along with it because he told me it was protection.
For Mei.
In case the divorce got ugly."
"You were planning a divorce."
"I was scared.
I didn't know what you would do.
You're not — Marcus, you're not easy to be married to.
You're gone half the year.
When you're here you're somewhere else.
I was lonely and I made the worst possible choice and I am telling you that now because I don't want to fight you in court."
She slid a plate in front of me.
"I want to fix this," she said.
"If you'll let me."
I looked at the plate.
Then at her.
"Where are the investment documents you had me sign last spring?"
Something moved behind her eyes.
Fast.
Gone.
"In the filing cabinet.
Why?"
"I'd like to look at them."
"Of course." She sat down across from me.
"Marcus.
I know trust is gone.
I'm not asking you to trust me today.
I'm asking you to give me a chance to show you who I actually am."
She reached across the table and put her hand over mine.
I let it stay there.
"I'll think about it," I said.
She exhaled.
Her shoulders dropped.
The relief on her face was detailed and specific — the kind that is hard to manufacture.
I ate the breakfast.
I said very little.
She talked carefully, filling the silence with small things: Mei's school schedule, a repair the house needed, a trip her sister was planning.
Normal things.
Safe things.
She was good.
I had always known she was good.
When I stood to leave, she said, "Marcus.
The folder in my room.
Can I have it back?"
"It's not there anymore."
Her hand was on the table.
It didn't move.
"Where is it?"
"Somewhere safe."
"I see." Her voice stayed level.
"And the photograph?"
"Also somewhere safe."
She looked at me for a long moment.
The softness was still there, but something else was working underneath it now.
A recalculation.
A new plan forming.
"I hope you know what you're doing," she said quietly.
"I usually do."
I went to the study and called Daniel.
"She made breakfast," I said.
"Of course she did," he said.
"Did she ask about the folder?"
"Yes."
"Did she ask about anything else?"
"The investment documents.
She said they're in the filing cabinet."
A pause.
"They're not.
I had Grace check this morning while Serena was in the shower.
The filing cabinet has been emptied.
The investment files are gone."
I looked at the closed study door.
"She moved them last night," Daniel said.
"After you went to sleep."
"She sat across from me and told me she wanted to fix things."
"I know."
"She put her hand on mine."
"Marcus." Daniel's voice was careful.
"Victor called his attorney at six-fifteen this morning.
Forty minutes before Grace arrived at your house.
Someone told him we were moving."
The breakfast.
The soft eyes.
The hand on the table.
"She called him," I said.
"While you were upstairs with Mei.
We have the phone record."
I sat down slowly.
"The forty-eight hours," I said.
"Is it still enough?"
"It just got shorter," Daniel said.
"Grace needs to move faster.
And Marcus — don't let Serena leave the house today if you can manage it.
Not yet."
I hung up and sat very still.
Down the hall, I could hear Serena in the kitchen, washing the breakfast dishes.
The sound of water.
May you like
The clink of plates.
She was humming.
