"You're worthless, Bethany. Just like your mother."
The words hit harder than his fist ever could. Bethany Chen gripped the kitchen counter, her knuckles white against the marble surface that had once symbolized everything she thought she wanted.
"Don't talk about my mother, Derek."
"I'll talk about whoever I damn well please in my own house." Derek's voice carried that familiar edge that made her stomach clench. "And last I checked, you don't contribute a single penny to this mortgage."
Bethany turned slowly, meeting his cold gray eyes. Three years of marriage had taught her to read every micro-expression on his face. The slight twitch of his left eye meant he'd had another bad day at the law firm. The way he loosened his tie told her he'd been drinking with his partners again.
"I cook your meals. I clean your house. I manage your social calendar. I—"
"You play housewife while I work sixteen-hour days to keep you in designer clothes."
"These?" Bethany gestured to her simple jeans and sweater. "I bought these at Target two years ago."
Derek laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Always the victim, aren't you? Poor little Bethany, married to the successful lawyer who gives her everything."
"You don't give me anything, Derek. You control everything."
The silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Derek's jaw clenched, and Bethany knew she'd crossed a line. She'd been crossing more lines lately, speaking up when she should have stayed quiet.
"Control?" His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than his shouting. "You want to see control?"
He pulled out his phone, fingers flying over the screen. "Done. All your credit cards are frozen. Your car payment? I just canceled the automatic transfer. Hope you weren't planning on going anywhere tomorrow."
Bethany's heart hammered against her ribs, but something inside her refused to break this time. "You can't keep me prisoner in my own life."
"Watch me." Derek pocketed his phone and straightened his tie. "I'm going to Marcus's place. When I get back, I want dinner ready and your attitude adjusted."
The front door slammed with enough force to rattle the windows. Bethany stood frozen in the kitchen, the silence roaring in her ears.
Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
"Mrs. Chen? This is Lennox Vale from Vale Investigations. We spoke six months ago about your husband. I have information you need to see. Can we meet?"
Bethany stared at the message, her pulse racing. Six months ago, in a moment of desperation, she'd contacted a private investigator. But she'd lost her nerve and never followed through.
She typed back with shaking fingers: "What kind of information?"
The response came immediately: "The kind that could change everything. Tomorrow, 2 PM, Cornerstone Café on Fifth Street. Come alone."
Bethany deleted the messages and slipped her phone into her pocket. Outside, Derek's Mercedes pulled out of the driveway with a screech of tires.
She walked to the window and watched his taillights disappear around the corner. For the first time in three years, she smiled.
"Game on, Derek."