The Reveal

The walk to the master suite was a blur of white walls and recessed lighting. Jade felt like she was floating, her feet dragging on the plush carpet of the hallway. Elise half-carried, half-dragged her, moving with terrifying efficiency.

"You see," Elise murmured as they walked, "Richard isn't just difficult. He’s impossible. He consumes people. He takes everything they have until they’re hollow. I was hollow years ago."

"Shut up," Jade tried to say, but it came out as a moan. "Call... Uber."

"We’re almost there," Elise soothed.

They reached the double doors of the master bedroom. Elise pushed them open.

The room was soundproofed. The silence here was different—heavier, pressurized. In the center of the room was a massive bed with white sheets.

And Richard.

He was lying on his back, dressed in his favorite silk pajamas. His eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling fan that spun lazily above him.

"Richard," Jade gasped, adrenaline fighting a losing battle against the sedative. "Rich..."

Elise walked Jade to the side of the bed. "He’s so quiet now. Isn't it better this way?"

Jade looked down. The sheets weren't entirely white. A bloom of red, dark and wet, had spread across Richard’s chest. In the center of the stain, the handle of a steak knife protruded like a perverse decoration.

He wasn't waiting. He was dead.

"Oh god," Jade wheezed. She tried to pull away, but Elise held her firm.

"He tried to leave me tonight," Elise said, her voice devoid of emotion. "Not for you. Just to leave. He was going to liquidate the accounts. He was going to take the house. He laughed at me, Jade. He said I wouldn't do anything because I was too polite."

Elise maneuvered Jade’s limp body. She sat Jade down on the edge of the mattress, right next to the corpse.

"I realized he was right," Elise continued. "I am polite. I clean up my messes. Or... I find someone else to clean them up for me."

Elise reached into the pocket of her cashmere cardigan. She pulled out the wine glass Jade had used downstairs. The glass Elise had carefully carried up.

She took Jade’s right hand—the hand that was now numb and unresponsive.

"Wrap your fingers around it," Elise instructed gently. She pressed the stem of the glass into Jade’s hand, then guided Jade’s fingers to touch the knife handle.

Jade watched in horror, a prisoner in her own body. She could see what was happening, but she couldn't stop it. Her fingerprints were now on the glass on the nightstand. Her fingerprints were on the knife.

"I didn't..." Jade whispered. tears leaking from her eyes. "I didn't..."

"You did," Elise corrected. "You came over in a rage. You demanded he leave me. He refused. You snapped. It’s a crime of passion, Jade. Very on-brand for you. You’re so... fiery."