Every Last Secret(72)

I froze at the implication of his words. “I didn’t remove it, Matt. I—”

“I spoke to Cat this morning, and we decided—”

“We decided? Where did you talk to Cat? Did you see her? Was she here?” He knew the rules. I’d been very clear for the two decades of our relationship and drawn his lines in bloody red paint. Having a woman in our house, alone with my husband, was a football field outside those lines, and he knew it.

“You are not going jealous psycho on me right now.” He held up his hand, and I wanted to grab it by the wrist, flip that switch by the sink, and shove it down the garbage disposal. “What matters is that she agreed not to mention the poisoning to the detective or share the broken railing with them.”

“Oh, how kind of her,” I sneered. “So generous. I should write her a freaking thank-you card. You believe that act? She probably poisoned herself.”

“Sit down, Neena.”

Had he ever said my name in such a cold way? He pointed to a stool. “I’m going to explain this to you one time, and I swear on my life, if you say one word before I finish, I’m going to slap the shit out of you.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it, stunned at the stranger standing before me and the words he’d just growled at me. Stunned at how, if he had only shown this side of himself earlier, I might have actually respected him. Stayed loyal to him. I sat.

“I’m having Mitchell’s office prepare divorce papers. I’ll file on Monday.”

“You’re doing what?” The words exploded out of me as my panic flared.

The impact of his hand threw me backward, the stool tipping. I scrambled to grab the edge of the counter and failed, the expensive three-peg stool leaning to one side, the soles of my shoes sliding along the tile as stars dotted my vision.

He hit me. Matt had hit me.

If he had pulled up his shirt and produced a third nipple, I wouldn’t have been more surprised.

I tugged at the edge of the counter and found my footing, my legs weak as I struggled to stand, my vision clearing. Matt stood across from me, still and silent, and stared at me as if I were a stranger. Me.

He pointed to the stool, which lay on its side, the wood knocking on the floor as it rocked a little in place. “Sit back down. Shut up. If you speak again, I’ll hit you again.”

It was pure torture to keep my mouth closed. What was he thinking? My cheekbone throbbed. I’d have a bruise. How would we explain that to the police?

I lifted the stool and righted it. I moved dully to sit atop it, my hands sweating as I gripped the counter and vowed to myself to stay silent. In my head, a slow-motion picture of Cat Winthorpe played. Laughing at my arrest. Feeding carbs and sugar to William in a sexy negligee and making him fall back in love with her. I was the one who was supposed to win this game. Me.

Matt continued as if all were fine, as if he hadn’t just abused me. “You will not contest the divorce and will give me all the assets of our marriage, including my company.” He looked at me, making sure that I was following his ridiculous monologue.

He might be saying this now, but he couldn’t mean it. Through everything, Matt was my rock. The only one who loved me through my flaws. The only one who looked at me as if I had value. The one who had provided for me since the moment I’d lost my father. That emotional security had been the only constant in my life for the last two decades. It had been the foundation I had depended on when I had stepped out on him. His love for me . . . it wasn’t going anywhere. It couldn’t go anywhere. Him leaving me was never a piece of this plan.

“I will give you a thousand dollars a month in alimony for two years. That’s all you’ll get. Not one dollar of the bonus from Ned Plymouth. Not one dollar of our stocks or savings or the equity in this house.”

I would never agree to that. He was crazy if he thought I would.

“You’ll sign the settlement agreement and leave me alone, because if you don’t, if you ever come near me—I’ll tell them about your father. I’ll tell them the story that you detailed in your will. And they’ll believe it, especially if I have Cat beside me, sharing everything about the liqueur you gave her and the details of my fall. They’ll believe your confession, and they’ll dig up his body, and you’ll go to prison.”

I will kill Cat. I didn’t know how or when, but I’d do it. I’d cut her brakes, or push her off a mountain, or get her drunk and drown her in her giant ridiculous pool.

I risked a glance at Matt’s face and inhaled at the contempt and hatred that seeped from the look he was giving me.

Somewhere inside, there was still love. There had to be.

I pushed off the stool and bolted upstairs, needing to get away from that look before it broke me in half.





CHAPTER 49

CAT

I stood on our roof deck and gripped the thin spindles of the ladder. Built into the far end of the deck, it allowed someone to climb onto the roof, where they could walk along the pitched surfaces and see almost 360 degrees around. Around my neck the binoculars hung by a thick strap.

I made my way onto the peak and carefully walked down the opposite slope, settling in one of the elbows where the roof changed direction. Finding a comfortable position on the tile, I watched the front yard of Matt and Neena’s house.

I’d missed her entrance, the taxi coming and going while I argued with William. I asked him again why he’d done it and was given a mountain of explanations that boiled down to one thing: because he could. She’d pursued him, and he’d been too weak to resist the ego boost.