While my husband lied about a “business trip” to vacation in Maui with his mistress, I was alone in the hospital watching his mother take her final breaths. When the mistress picked up my phone call to mock me, Margaret heard it all. Fueled by a lifetime of her son’s neglect, she gave me a secret silver key and a single instruction: “Destroy him.” Now, his tropical paradise is about to burn.

There, sitting in the exact center of the long wooden table, was the green divorce petition, weighed down by my platinum ring. Beside it lay a high-resolution photocopy of the bank passbook showing the $500,000 balance, but right below the total was the bank’s red stamp: ACCOUNT FROZEN – BENEFICIARY TRANSFER PENDING.

Through the pixelated screen, I watched the exact millisecond his soul left his body.

He dropped his suitcase. The blood drained from his tanned face so fast he swayed on his feet, his jaw going slack. He picked up the photocopy with violently trembling hands. “No… no, no, no! What is this? How did she get into the lockbox?!” he shrieked to the empty walls, his voice cracking in sheer terror.

Chloe crossed her arms, her fake eyelashes fluttering in annoyance. “Mark? What’s going on? Where is your pathetic wife?”