Page 64 of Happily Ever After

The treadmill kept moving beneath her feet, but she barely noticed. Her eyes scanned the first page, then slowed as the contents came into focus.

Her mouth came open. Maude didn’t think this was conclusive? There were dates, organizations, locations, and short descriptions of actions taken. There was a list of phrases highlighted and repeated across entries.

Paige scrolled. And scrolled. And scrolled.

Her breath caught in her throat. The more she read, the more she understood what she was reading. What Maude had uncovered.

Darcy’s name appeared again and again, not as a founder, not as a leader, but as a participant. Paige made a face at that. Darcy was always a committee member or a concerned resident speaking out in the name of fairness.

That woman was a professional disrupter. Always out to destroy something someone else had already built.

Paige felt a strange, creeping calm settle over her as she read. This wasn’t about her divorce or whatever Darcy had hinted she “knew,” because the truth was, she might not have known anything.

This wasn’t personal. Which somehow made it worse—and better—at the same time. It was just Darcy, finding something new to either take over or ruin.

Paige scrolled to the section Maude had labeled Patterns.

Her pace on the treadmill faltered slightly, and Paige corrected it automatically, her free hand gripping the rail for balance.

The words blurred on the screen as recognition hit.

Established group. Strong female leadership. Bylaws concerns raised. Language of fairness and access. Review demanded. Momentum lost. Group disbanded.

Paige swallowed.

There it was in black and white: Darcy’s playbook.

Paige read on, her mind replaying Darcy’s expressions, her tone, the way she’d spoken at the fitness center with that infuriating mix of calm and certainty. Darcy hadn’t been improvising. She’d just been following her usual script.

Paige scrolled further, into archived excerpts Maude had included. There were screenshots of old meeting minutes, some defunct mission statements, and quotes lifted from newsletters that no longer existed.

The same terms kept appearing.

Inclusive. Equitable. Transparent.

Words Paige herself believed in. Which was the part that made her stomach twist.

There was no way Darcy had chosen those words accidentally. She’d chosen them because they were hard to argue with. Because anyone who pushed back risked looking selfish, defensive, or exclusionary.

Paige slowed the treadmill again, her body responding to the weightiness of the realization even as her mind raced ahead. This was bigger than the book club.

And somehow, not.

But the Bees were being targeted because the book club had done the one thing Darcy couldn’t tolerate.

It had refused her. Sure, Darcy had never even talked about wanting to join the book club, but Paige would bet good money she’d heard about it from someone—maybe Gigi—and decided the Queen Bees fit her pattern.

Paige leaned forward slightly, one hand braced on the treadmill console as she finished reading the document.

Maude had done an outstanding job.

Paige let out a long breath and stared at her reflection in the darkened window opposite the machines. The woman looking back at her didn’t look rattled. She looked focused.

So this was what the real fight was about.

Control.

Darcy didn’t want fairness. She wanted authority. And Paige, by accident more than design, had become an obstacle. Maybe the obstacle.