The Transfer

Elise stepped back. She looked at the tableau: the dead husband, the drugged mistress, the murder weapon. It was perfect.

She walked to the walk-in closet and pulled out a small carry-on suitcase. She had been packed for hours.

"The police are already on their way," Elise said, checking her diamond-encrusted watch. "I called them from the car before you arrived. I reported a disturbance. I said his mistress was here and she was threatening him."

Jade slumped onto the mattress, her head resting near Richard’s cold shoulder. The drug was pulling her under, a dark tide of unconsciousness.

"Why?" Jade managed to choke out. "Why me?"

Elise stopped at the door. She looked back, and for the first time, her face wasn't soft. It was hard, cold, and triumphant.

"Because you wanted his life, Jade," Elise said. "You wanted to be Mrs. Richard Sterling. You wanted the house, the money, the attention."

Elise opened the bedroom door. Distantly, through the soundproof walls and the glass facade, the wail of sirens began to bleed into the air.

"I forgive you for taking my life," Elise said softly, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "Now you get to keep it."

Elise walked out, closing the door with a soft click.

Jade lay paralyzed in the million-dollar bedroom, staring into the dead eyes of the man she thought she loved, listening to the sirens get louder and louder, realizing too late that she had indeed won exactly what she had fought for.