Chapter 2: The Woman at the Door
Every eye at the table turned to me.
Elon forced a smile, but his jaw was tight.
"My dear husband, Elon," I said clearly.
"You once told me that a good wife should be patient, supportive, and never ask too many questions."
His mother nodded approvingly across the table.
"So I was," I continued.
"Very patient."
I reached into my cardigan pocket and set my phone flat on the table.
"Six days ago, you forgot to hang up."
The room went still.
Elon's face drained of color.
"I don't know what you think you heard—" he started.
"I heard everything," I said.
"Your exact words.
Would you like me to play them for the table, or would you prefer to explain yourself?"
His father put down his fork.
His mother's smile disappeared.
Elon pushed back his chair.
"This is not the place—"
"You chose this family," I said quietly.
"So yes.
This is exactly the place."
Then the front door opened.
Everyone turned.
May you like
Standing in the doorway, still in her coat, was a woman I had never seen before — but from the look on Elon's face, he knew exactly who she was.
And she was not alone.
