Chapter 4: The Judas Kiss<\/p>\n
Forty-eight hours later, Sharon\u2019s number flashed across my screen again. This time, her tone was urgent.<\/p>\n
\u201cRebecca. You need to come in right now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I abandoned a cart full of groceries in the aisle of the Meijer and drove straight to Keystone Avenue. When I arrived, Sharon didn\u2019t even say hello. She ushered me into her office and firmly clicked the door shut.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy tech guy managed to bypass the security on the shared iCloud account attached to David\u2019s iPad,\u201d she explained, pacing behind her desk. \u201cHe recovered a trove of deleted email correspondences between David and Angela.\u201d<\/p>\n
She handed me a thick printout. I scanned the pages. It was a nauseating catalog of their hidden world. They were exchanging links to luxury apartment listings in downtown Phoenix. They were debating the merits of mid-century modern furniture versus contemporary minimalist decor.<\/p>\n
Then, my eyes snagged on a specific email chain, and the blood froze in my veins.<\/p>\n
From: David Collins
\nOnce I can finally convince Rebecca to agree to sell the house in Carmel, we\u2019ll have the equity cleared. That, plus the savings, will be enough for us to buy the place in Scottsdale outright and start fresh. Just be patient, Ang.<\/p>\n
Reply from: Angela Morris
\nI know, baby. I\u2019m just so tired of hiding. But she\u2019s so naive. She trusts both of us implicitly. She\u2019ll never see the sale coming until it\u2019s done.<\/p>\n
The walls of Sharon\u2019s office rushed inward, threatening to crush me.<\/p>\n
They weren\u2019t merely satisfied with carrying on a sordid affair behind my back. They weren\u2019t just stealing money. They were actively conspiring to manipulate me into liquidating the very sanctuary I had built. They wanted me to willingly sell the home where we had celebrated eighteen Christmases, the kitchen I had spent months remodeling with my own hands, the yard where David had planted a sapling for our tenth anniversary.<\/p>\n
They intended for me to finance their romantic desert getaway with the ashes of my own life, before discarding me entirely.<\/p>\n
I slowly raised my head, meeting Sharon\u2019s grim expression. \u201cI honestly thought discovering the physical affair was going to be the worst part.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head, her eyes full of pity. \u201cNo. The betrayal of the mind is always worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the next two days, I existed in a state of absolute, icy detachment. The blinding, hot fury had burned itself out, leaving behind a glacial calm. I looked at David\u2014this stranger wearing my husband\u2019s face\u2014and felt nothing but clinical disgust. I was mourning the death of a man who had apparently perished years ago, replaced by a parasite.<\/p>\n
David, entirely ignorant of his impending doom, continued his flawless performance of suburban mediocrity. He left for his job sites at 6:30 AM, travel mug in hand. He texted me heart emojis at noon. He returned at 5:15 PM. If a neighbor had peered through our windows, they would have seen the quintessential American marriage. Inside the walls, it was a pantomime performed by a ghost and a monster.<\/p>\n
On Thursday evening, he looked up from the television. \u201cYou want to order Chinese tonight?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure,\u201d I replied, not looking away from my book.<\/p>\n
He ordered from the exact same family-run establishment we had patronized for a decade. Orange chicken for him, extra spicy vegetable lo mein for me. He bantered with the delivery boy at the door and tipped generously. Watching him effortlessly juggle this staggering mountain of deception while remembering to ask for extra soy sauce made me physically dizzy.<\/p>\n
The next morning, I woke up with a singular, driving purpose. I had dissected David\u2019s mind; now it was time to confront the other half of the conspiracy. I didn\u2019t want apologies from Angela. I wanted to look her in the eye and gauge if she possessed even a shred of humanity regarding the destruction they had planned.<\/p>\n
At exactly 10:00 AM, I dialed her number.<\/p>\n
She picked up on the second ring, her voice tight and defensive. \u201cRebecca?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe need to meet,\u201d I said, my voice flat.<\/p>\n
A long, agonizing pause stretched across the cellular connection. \u201cWhat\u2026 what about?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think we both know exactly what about, Ang.\u201d<\/p>\n
Another heavy silence. Then, a ragged sigh. \u201cRosie\u2019s Cafe. Noon. I\u2019ll be there.\u201d<\/p>\n
I arrived at Rosie\u2019s twenty minutes early, claiming a booth in the far corner. The cafe was a time capsule of our friendship. It smelled of freshly baked blueberry muffins and roasted espresso. Classic rock hummed softly from the ceiling speakers. Elderly couples occupied the center tables, dissecting local politics and golf scores.<\/p>\n
At noon on the dot, the bell above the door chimed. Angela walked in.<\/p>\n
Despite the heavy, overcast Indiana sky, she was hiding behind massive, dark tortoiseshell sunglasses. She looked frail\u2014thinner than I recalled, the skin around her mouth tight with anxiety. She slid into the booth across from me, keeping her hands firmly in her lap. There was no hug. There were no menus.<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose you know everything,\u201d she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the clatter of silverware.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know enough,\u201d I replied, holding her gaze until she was forced to look away.<\/p>\n
She let out a harsh, bitter laugh. \u201cWell, then. Congratulations. You won.\u201d<\/p>\n
I leaned forward, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. \u201cYou think this is a game, Angela? You think there\u2019s a prize at the end of this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt was a game to David,\u201d she shot back, the venom in her tone surprising me.<\/p>\n
The waitress arrived, depositing two mugs of black coffee before sensing the radioactive tension and scurrying away. Neither of us reached for our cups.<\/p>\n
Angela crossed her arms defensively, digging her nails into her own skin. \u201cHe\u2019s not answering my calls anymore, Rebecca. He\u2019s completely ghosted me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I offered nothing but silence. Let her drown in it.<\/p>\n
\u201cI quit my job, you know,\u201d she blurted out, her voice cracking.<\/p>\n
That caught my attention. \u201cYou did what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI gave my notice at the firm three weeks ago,\u201d she said, a tear finally escaping beneath the sunglasses. \u201cHe told me it was time. He said we were finally moving to Arizona. He promised we were starting fresh.\u201d She shook her head, a pathetic, self-pitying gesture. \u201cGod, I was so unbelievably stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n
For a fraction of a second, a flicker of pity sparked in my chest. Almost. Then, a tidal wave of memories crashed over me. Eighteen years of shared secrets. The road trips to Chicago. The late-night phone calls when my mother was dying in hospice, Angela holding the phone while I wept until I vomited. She hadn\u2019t just defiled my marriage bed; she had incinerated a sisterhood that had predated David by years.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had choices, Angela,\u201d I stated, my voice devoid of warmth.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know,\u201d she sobbed softly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have walked away at any time. The first time he touched you, you could have pushed him away.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have come to me. You could have warned me.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared down at the black, oily surface of her coffee. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
For the first time since this waking nightmare began, the urge to scream evaporated. There was nothing left to debate. We were both acutely aware of the monsters we were dealing with, and the roles we had played.<\/p>\n
Finally, I leaned back against the vinyl booth and asked the question that had been eating at me for weeks.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me something, Ang. Did you ever actually tell David that you had HIV?\u201d<\/p>\n
She froze. Her brow furrowed in genuine, profound confusion. She slowly lowered her sunglasses, revealing red, swollen eyes. \u201cWhat? HIV? Rebecca, what the hell are you talking about? Where would you even get a crazy idea like that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked him if he knew,\u201d I stated simply.<\/p>\n
Angela blinked rapidly, her brain scrambling to process the data. Then, a sound escaped her. It wasn\u2019t a sob. It was a laugh. It was a jagged, hysterical sound of a mind fracturing under the weight of absurdity.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh my god,\u201d she gasped, covering her mouth. \u201cWhat? Rebecca\u2026 I don\u2019t have HIV.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that.\u201d<\/p>\n
She abruptly stopped laughing. \u201cWait. You knew?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know anything for certain,\u201d I clarified.<\/p>\n
She leaned forward, bewildered. \u201cThen why in God\u2019s name would you look your husband in the eye and tell him I had a terminal sexually transmitted disease?\u201d<\/p>\n
I took a slow, deep breath, relishing the moment. \u201cBecause months ago, sitting right in this very cafe, you complained that your doctor wanted to run a comprehensive blood panel.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded slowly. \u201cYeah\u2026 I remember that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know what the tests were for,\u201d I explained calmly. \u201cBut I remembered the blood work. So, I took a shot in the dark.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angela stared at me, her jaw practically on the table. \u201cRebecca\u2026 they thought I might have early-onset Lupus. My white blood cell count was elevated because of a lingering sinus infection. They ran the panel, and everything came back completely, one hundred percent normal.\u201d<\/p>\n
I held her gaze, a small, triumphant smile finally touching the corners of my mouth. \u201cSo, I\u2019ve gathered.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2026 you bluffed him,\u201d she whispered in awe.<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked him a single question.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd he believed it.\u201d She slumped back against the booth, the fight entirely draining out of her. \u201cHe believed it so completely that he panicked.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe practically took the hinges off the door running to the urgent care clinic,\u201d I confirmed.<\/p>\n
We sat in the suffocating silence of the cafe, letting the sheer magnitude of David\u2019s cowardice wash over us. He had never paused to ask if my statement was factually accurate. He never demanded to see medical records. He never declared, \u201cThat\u2019s impossible, I would know.\u201d He simply ran, terrified for his own skin, because his guilt had already convicted him before logic could intervene.<\/p>\n
Angela slowly shook her head, looking utterly defeated. \u201cI genuinely thought the man loved me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I picked up my purse, preparing to leave. \u201cI thought he loved me, too, Angela. It appears that\u2019s the only thing we still have in common.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I slid out of the booth, she reached out, her fingers brushing my arm. \u201cRebecca, wait.\u201d She rummaged frantically through her designer handbag and pulled out her unlocked iPhone. \u201cYou need to see this.\u201d<\/p>\n
She opened her photo gallery. It was a digital shrine to their treachery. Videos of David driving a rented Jeep through the desert, his hair blowing in the wind, laughing uproariously. Videos of them clinking champagne flutes at a five-star restaurant.<\/p>\n
Then, she tapped play on a specific video.<\/p>\n
It was David, lounging on a sunbed beside a sparkling turquoise pool. He looked relaxed, tanned, and incredibly smug. He raised a plastic cup of beer toward the camera.<\/p>\n
\u201cGod, I cannot wait until Rebecca finally caves and agrees to sell that massive, depressing house,\u201d his digital voice gloated. \u201cTo the new equity, babe. To our real life.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angela locked the screen, her hand shaking. \u201cI used to watch that video every single night before I went to sleep. And now\u2026 now the sound of his voice makes me want to vomit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before I could walk away, she said something that genuinely shocked me.<\/p>\n
\u201cRebecca\u2026 I deserve every terrible thing that happens to me now. I deserve whatever the town whispers about me.\u201d She swallowed hard, tears freely falling. \u201cBut David\u2026 David does not deserve to get away with this. He doesn\u2019t deserve to spin a lie and paint you as the crazy ex-wife.\u201d<\/p>\n
I narrowed my eyes. \u201cWhat are you offering?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you decide to burn him to the ground,\u201d she said, her voice finding a shred of steel, \u201cI will stand there and tell the truth. I won\u2019t hide.\u201d<\/p>\n
I searched her face. Beneath the Botox and the fear, there was genuine, agonizing regret. It wasn\u2019t nearly enough to absolve her of destroying two decades of loyalty. Nothing ever would. But it was enough to convince me that the alliance between the traitors was officially shattered.<\/p>\n
Driving home, my mind raced. The easiest path would be to quietly retain a lawyer, file the paperwork under the radar, and slink away into the night. It would save me the public humiliation.<\/p>\n
But then, the words from their email echoed in my skull. She trusts us. She\u2019ll never see it coming.<\/p>\n
They hadn\u2019t just stumbled into a mistake; they had weaponized my kindness. They had calculated my destruction.<\/p>\n
When I pulled into my driveway, David was in the front yard, riding our John Deere mower. He saw my car, killed the engine, and waved cheerfully, wiping sweat from his brow. He looked like the picture of suburban devotion. He looked like a man who hadn\u2019t spent the last year plotting to rob his wife blind and abandon her.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey! You\u2019re home early,\u201d he called out, approaching my car. \u201cEverything okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped out, slamming the door. I looked at the house, then at him. \u201cActually, David\u2026 I don\u2019t think things have ever been clearer.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled, a wide, ignorant grin, completely misinterpreting my meaning. \u201cThat\u2019s great, hon. I\u2019m glad.\u201d<\/p>\n
As I brushed past him and walked up the front steps, the final pieces of my plan snapped into place. For weeks, I had been a victim, reacting to his moves. That era was over. Now, I was the architect, and for the first time since this nightmare began, the fear was entirely gone.<\/p>\n
I knew exactly when and where I was going to detonate the bomb. And I was going to ensure that everyone he loved had a front-row seat.
\n<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Chapter 4: The Judas Kiss Forty-eight hours later, Sharon\u2019s number flashed across my screen again. This time, her tone was urgent. \u201cRebecca. You need to come in right now.\u201d I … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":13915,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13908","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family-drama-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13908","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13908"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13908\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13918,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13908\/revisions\/13918"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/13915"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13908"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13908"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/redditlovers.live\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13908"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}