Hahahahahaaaaa we’ve finally got the bitch!
My blood heated my head and face like magma. The attachment was the email I wrote to the ghostwriter. I must have left my laptop unattended, or perhaps she had paid someone to hack my computer. Was Jeannie the insider or– much, much, worse– has Jeannie been OpinionatedOgre1 this whole time?
I flung my laptop onto the bath mat, turned, and retched into the toilet.
The acrid taste of bile burned my throat as I gasped for air. My mind raced, trying to make sense of what I’d just read. Jeannie, my own mother-in-law. As I wiped my mouth with trembling hands, my mind raced. How could Jeannie betray me like this? And for how long had she been masquerading as OpinionatedOgre1, one of my most vicious critics on the forum? I knew she didn’t like me but… betraying me like this? It didn’t seem possible, and yet the evidence was right there on the screen.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to compose myself.
Returning to my laptop, I scrolled through the comments, my anger growing with each gleeful response. These vultures were tearing apart my reputation, my career, everything I’d worked so hard to build. And for what? Clicks? Attention? The satisfaction of bringing someone down?
I closed the browser, unable to stomach any more.
I flushed the toilet, hoping the sound wouldn’t wake Miles. I couldn’t let her know I was onto her. Not yet. I needed time to think, to plan my next move.
I hastily brushed my teeth and peeled off my clothes to change into pyjamas. As I folded my jeans something fell from my pocket. A packet of Rizlas. The only person in this house that used Rizlas was Callum… Had he been using the secret passage? He must have… When I had opened it, it hadn’t been shut properly.
Creeping back into the bedroom, I slid under the covers next to my sleeping husband. His gentle snores filled the room, oblivious to the turmoil churning inside me.
I stared at the ceiling, thoughts bombarding me.
What will Miles’s reaction be if I tell him about Jeannie?
Should I even tell him?
What if he already knows?
Was he in on it, too?
Should I confront Callum about the Rizlas?
What if this is all some part of a bigger plan to make sure Miles gets the inheritance and I get nothing, as part of some crazy clause in the prenup?
No, I couldn’t think like that. Paranoia would only cloud my judgment. I lay there staring, staring as the same thoughts frenzied faster and faster round and round until I was absolutely sure I’d reached the brink of madness.
* * *
The pale sun peeked through the gap in the curtains as I dragged a brush through my hair and pulled on some leggings and an old sweatshirt. To hell with making an effort to please Jeannie’s love of aesthetics.
That bitch was going down.
After coffee. A bucketload of coffee.
I wasn’t sure what time Miles had got up, but the bed was long cold by the time I prised my eyes open at nine-thirty a.m. I practically staggered downstairs, remembering as I did so yesterday’s events. The police officers. Clem, dead in bed. Fergus in a Santa costume crashing into the fountain, Jeannie being my personal online troll, the Rizlas.
Last night, I had been out of my mind, jumping to all kinds of crazy conclusions. But if I told Miles what I’d seen Jeannie doing, he would be truly hurt, betrayed and devastated. More so than me. I knew it would cut him deep and I had absolutely no desire to cause him any harm.
Miles strode into the foyer, a look of consternation on his face. Gloria followed him, tail wagging and mouth upturned in what I’m positive was a smile.
‘Fergus is awake,’ he said gravely. ‘I’m going to talk to him before he has a chance to start drinking again.’
I nodded dumbly and followed him and Gloria towards the dining room, even though he hadn’t expressly asked me to.
Jeannie was already in there, arms crossed and lips pressed into a tight line.
Fergus sat at the table, his fine hair flopping over his ashen face, his face puffy and his eyes bloodshot. He looked remarkably like an old basset hound.
‘Uncle Fergus…’ Miles began gently. ‘We have some bad news. Some awful news, I’m afraid.’
