Eight years. That's how long I rotted in a cell for a murder I never did. And there he is. My husband. Waiting at the gate with roses and our twins, smiling like he didn't put me there himself. His eyes fill with tears. "Vivian. Baby. You've learned your lesson. From now on, you've got me and the kids. That's it." The reporters swarm in. They've been waiting for hours. "Vivian Hayes! You used to be America's sweetheart. Tell us, what was going through your head when you tortured that poor delivery driver?" "How did you feel when his family set the fire that killed your parents?" "Your CEO husband got down on his knees on live TV for you. Your kids grew up labeled the children of a killer. Any regrets, Vivian?" The cameras and mics push at my face like weapons. Every question wants me dead. I don't say a word. Then someone shouts over the rest. "Chloe Bennett has confessed her love for your husband on camera. Multiple times. Will you finally let him and the kids go? Give them a way out?" A way out? I almost laugh. They're the ones who never gave me a way out. Damon was the one who begged me to take the fall for Chloe. ....... All those vicious questions, and Damon didn't say one word to defend me. But the second someone says Chloe's name? He snaps his fingers. The bodyguards move in. "Sorry, folks. Ms. Bennett is a respected actress. Please leave her name out of this." My own kids look like they want to swing at the reporter. "Chloe is beautiful and kind! How dare this killer even say her name!" I gave birth to these two in prison. I worked the laundry shift during the day with one of them strapped to each side of me. At night I rocked them for hours so they wouldn't wake the other inmates. The day Damon came to take them, I asked him for one thing. "Send them overseas. As far as you can. And whatever you do, keep them away from Chloe." Now I'm out. And I find out the two babies I almost died for were raised at her knee. Turned into knives. Pointed at me. The car ride home is silent. Damon reaches over and takes my hand, careful, like he's testing the water. "About what happened back then. I want to thank you. For Chloe." I don't move. "You were already married. Pregnant. You'd been talking about retiring anyway. Chloe had just graduated. Her whole career was in front of her." I laugh. It comes out ugly. "So?" I turn and look at him. "So the real killer walks free, and I'm the one who has to bury my parents and lose my kids? Is that what you're telling me?" He doesn't answer. When he finally speaks, his voice breaks. "Her parents saved my life, Vivian. I owed them. Blame me. Hit me. Yell at me. I swear, I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Eight years of cold concrete. The reporters tearing me apart at the gate. All of it falls apart in my chest the second he says it. I start shaking. The sobs rip out of me. He pulls me against his chest. His voice is low. Steady. The voice I used to fall asleep to. "It's over, baby. It's all over. We're gonna have a beautiful family. Just us and the kids." It's such a beautiful picture. It shatters the second I walk through the door and see her. Our house. Exactly the way I left it. Brighter, actually. Warmer. Because the day they put me in cuffs, Chloe moved in. She walks up to me like she owns the place and grabs my hand. "Vivian! You're finally home! I made dinner. We've been waiting all afternoon." I rip my hand away like she's diseased. Damon's face turns to ice. "Vivian. I get you're pissed. Take it out on me. Don't take it out on her." He steps between us. "Yeah, you took the fall. But she's the one who raised our kids while you were gone. She put her whole career on the line for this family. Drop it already." "Drop it?" Nothing in prison ever hurt the way that sentence just did. "You want me to thank her, Damon?" I want to scream the rest. Why wasn't he at our anniversary dinner that night? Why was he at her birthday party instead? Why did he throw his own pregnant wife in a cell to save her? Chloe jumps in before it can blow up. "It's okay, Damon. Really. She needs time. I knew this would happen." She gives me a soft, sad little smile. "You two eat. I'll get out of your way." Her eyes go red right on cue. The picture of hurt. But she doesn't let a single tear fall. She just spins around and runs back to her room.
Every dish on the table was made by Chloe. Just looking at them makes me want to throw up. Damon says it's my first family dinner since I got out. Says I should sit down and act normal. At least for the kids. But the kids don't even let me sit. Noah grabs a meatball off the plate and chucks it at my face. "Why does she get to eat Chloe's food?" "Chloe and Daddy love each other! Why are you trying to steal him, you killer?" Nora's already wailing next to him. "Daddy, please don't let her live here. I'm scared." Damon scoops her up like she's made of glass. Chloe comes flying out of the kitchen the second she hears crying. She presses herself right up against him. Pretends to wipe Nora's tears. Her hands are doing way more than that. "Aw, Nora, sweetie. She's still your mom. And the police taught her her lesson. She won't kill anyone anymore." Nora hears the word kill and sobs harder. Eight years. Eight years I missed with these kids. Eight years they got called the children of a murderer at school, on the playground, everywhere. Now my baby girl's face is red and swollen because of her, and something inside me snaps. "Chloe. What the hell did you just say?" I shove between her and Damon and grab her arm. "Won't kill anyone anymore?" "You know exactly who did it. Better than anyone in this room." Every ounce of rage I swallowed for eight years comes roaring up at once. My hand flies up to slap her. Damon catches my wrist mid-air. "Vivian. Jesus. Prison actually made you crazy." He throws my arm down hard. I stumble. My lower back slams into the corner of the table. Pain shoots up my spine so sharp I almost black out on my feet. But that's not what hurts the most. "Chloe was trying to calm Nora down. She was defending you, for God's sake." "Just go to your room. You're not okay right now." I stare at him. The tears are right there, burning behind my eyes. The same man who promised me the rest of his life an hour ago in the car. Now he's screaming at me to protect her. I drag myself down the hall. Lock the door behind me. I pull up my shirt in front of the mirror. The whole side of my lower back is already turning purple. Black at the edges. Hideous. This bedroom is twice the size of my cell. Bright. Clean. And somehow I've never felt colder or more alone. In prison, rats ran across me at night. Roaches in my hair. I didn't care. Because every single day I told myself the same thing. Get out. Get back to Damon. Get back to the kids. Build the life you were supposed to have. That's what kept me breathing. And now? Even with the door shut, I can hear them laughing in the living room. I hear my kids piling food onto Chloe's plate. Calling her Aunt Chloe in that sweet, sticky voice. I hear my husband ask her, soft and worried, "You okay, baby? She didn't scare you, did she?" That life out there. The warm one. The happy one. That was supposed to be mine. No. It was supposed to be more than that. If somebody hadn't leaked my parents' address eight years ago. If the victim's family hadn't shown up with gasoline and a match. I'd have a house full of grandparents and babies right now. A real family. Loud. Messy. Whole. I'm crying so hard I can barely breathe when there's a knock at the door. "Vivian. May I come in?"
I never let Damon see me like this. I spin around fast and scrub at my eyes. Too late. He's already clocked the red rims and the wet streaks down my cheeks. He sets down a bowl and pulls me into his chest. "Hey. What's all this? The kids spent eight years getting called a murderer's children. Of course they're cold. Give them time." I nod into his shirt. "I know." Then I look up. "That thing I asked you to look into. Who leaked Mom and Dad's address. Did you ever find out?" His face shifts. I feel his whole body go stiff against mine. "Babe. It's been eight years. There's nothing left to trace." I frown. "I was at the peak of my career. I bought them that place in the Hamptons specifically to keep stalker fans out. The address was locked down." "Whoever knew where they lived was someone close to me." "Damon." I grab his hand like it's the last rope on a cliff. "Please. You have to find out who did this. They burned alive. There wasn't even enough left to put in the casket." After dinner, Damon takes the kids upstairs. I run myself a rose-petal bath. Partly to scrub eight years of prison off my skin. Mostly because tonight is supposed to be the first time my husband and I share a bed in nearly a decade. I dig out the black slip he used to lose his mind over. I sit on the edge of the bed. And I wait. He doesn't come. Eventually I pad down the hall. The kitchen's dark except for the fridge hanging half open. That's when I see them. "Damon. Are you seriously going to sleep with that old bitch tonight?" Chloe's in a red lace slip. Barely there. She drags one finger down his chest. He catches her wrist. "Chloe. Don't talk about her like that. She did eight years for you." She laughs in his face. "Sweetie. You had more money than God. One phone call and a hundred women would've lined up to take that fall for me." She leans in. "And let's be real. The night her parents walked in on us? The night they said they were going to the press? You're the one who handed their address to the victim's family." "Damon." She winds his tie around her finger and pulls him in until their mouths are almost touching. "Just say it. You wanted me. That's why you put her away." Their breath is mixing. He breaks. Grabs her by the jaw and bites down on her lip. Between gasps, he's still talking. "When I married her, I swore I'd never cheat. But you and me, baby, we go back to kindergarten. The only way to keep my word to her and my word to you was to put her somewhere she'd never find out." Then they're kissing again. Loud. Hungry. And I'm standing in the dark feeling my heart get carved up in strips. The man I gave every piece of myself to. He killed my parents. The "girl he grew up with" he introduced me to at our engagement party? She was never a little sister. She was the love of his life. I don't remember walking back to the bedroom. My legs aren't mine anymore. I collapse on the floor. My phone is buzzing on the nightstand. My old agent. I can't reach for it. I'm up before sunrise. I drive to my parents' grave. I drop to my knees in front of the headstone and slap myself across the face. Hard. Mom. Dad. I'm so sorry. You raised a fool. Then I hear footsteps. A lot of them. Coming fast.
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