And then a door opens down the hall.
Aubrey.
She steps out of her apartment in silk pajamas, arms folded across her chest. Calm. Beautiful. Vicious.
She walks over to me without a word, then slips an armaround my waist like we’ve done this a hundred times.
Jack’s face contorts into something primal.
“Aubrey?” he whispers, betrayed.
She gives him a long, pitying look. Then leans her head against mine.
“Vanquishing evil isn’t for the faint of heart, Jack,” she calls after him. “Sometimes there’s collateral damage.”
Her smile is razor-sharp. Mine matches.
Forty-Seven
Ellie
One month later
“Thank you for meeting me for brunch—there's been so much going on for you lately, I figured it was best if we lay low for a while.” Aubrey's smile is soft. “And I figured maybe you needed some time to process everything.”
I swirl the last of the champagne in my glass as we sit across from each other at La Grande Boucherie in Midtown. “I've been on the phone with detectives almost every day since Jack's arrest,” I admit. “It's been a lot”.
“I bet. The idea that I ruined our friendship has been eating at me. El, I need you to know: I never actually slept with Jack and I never would have. I just needed you to believe that we might so you could see who he really is and not the person he told you he was.” Aubrey's apologetic eyes hang on mine.
I nod. “Thanks for clarifying that. And you didn't ruin anything—you just removed the veil from my eyes.”
Aubrey's smile is weak. “I'm not sure if Kat would want me to tell you the details, but I feel like I have to if we have anychance of being close. Jack was one of my targets—just like the professor and the Surgeon General and your father were yours. I'm so sorry things ended up this way, though.”
“You don't have to say sorry. I understand why things had to unfold the way they did. Seeing you and Jack together was hard, but I'd rather know what he's capable of than live a lie in my marriage,” I reply.
She nods, still apologetic. “Are we okay?”
“We're more than okay.” I stand and move around the table to wrap her in a hug. “We're sisters—nothing will ever change that.”
“Okay,” she says, swiping the emotion from her eyes. “I'm glad you feel that way. I've never had much of a family, but you matter to me, Ellie, more than anyone ever has.”
“I feel the same way. Actually—I have an appointment to visit Jack at the correctional facility in an hour; you should come with me and we'll really make him lose his mind.”
Aubrey raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like fun, but something tells me it's too soon.”
“Probably,” I laugh, sitting back down and tearing off a piece of buttery croissant and popping it into my mouth. “I like the idea of shoving the knife a little deeper into his back, though. Does that make me a bad person?”
“Probably,” Aubrey chuckles, “but revenge looks good on you.”
Jack doesn’t see me.
The glass between us is a mirror on one side—an invisible veil he rants into, blind to my face just behind it. I sip from the Styrofoam coffee cup the nurse handed me when I walked in.The coffee is cold. I don’t care. The bitterness grounds me.
Inside the observation room, Jack thrashes against the restraints strapped across his wrists and ankles. His skin is sallow, his hair disheveled. He looks less like the man I married and more like something feral—stripped of his tailored suits and power games. Just a man, cornered and unraveling.
“She’s the crazy one!” he roars, spittle flying. “My wife—Ellie—she’s the one you should be locking up! You have to believe me!”
His voice cracks on the wordwife, like it still means something. Like he hasn’t spent the last year methodically poisoning my mind and body, pushing me toward the edge just to watch me fall.
