Chapter 4 - The Night of the Storm
The audit was scheduled to begin on Monday.
On Friday afternoon, Harrison told Eleanor he had to travel to Washington for a government meeting.
“The weather may delay my return,” he said while packing.
A winter storm was expected to reach Connecticut after midnight.
Eleanor watched him place two shirts into his suitcase.
“What hotel are you staying at?”
“The Jefferson.”
“Should I come with you?”
Harrison looked up too quickly.
“You hate political dinners.”
“I could work from the room.”
“You just agreed to rest.”
There it was again.
The careful reminder that she was tired, unstable, and incapable.
“You’re right,” Eleanor said. “Have a safe trip.”
Harrison kissed her cheek and left before sunset.
At nine that evening, the estate manager called.
A pipe had burst in the western guesthouse. The repair team needed Eleanor’s authorization to enter.
She drove to the estate rather than sending approval electronically because the roads were already becoming dangerous.
The main house appeared dark when she arrived.
Harrison’s car was gone.
Yet a light glowed behind the curtains of the primary bedroom.
Eleanor remained in her vehicle for several minutes, listening to the wind push snow across the windshield.
She could have called Marcus.
She could have contacted the police.
She could have driven away and allowed investigators to handle everything on Monday.
Instead, she entered the house.
A pair of unfamiliar heels rested near the staircase.
Chloe’s heels.
Eleanor climbed the stairs slowly.
She heard laughter behind the bedroom door.
Harrison said something she could not understand.
Chloe answered.
Eleanor placed her hand on the door handle.
She had imagined this moment many times. In some versions, she screamed. In others, she threw Harrison’s clothes into the snow or demanded that Chloe explain how she could betray a friendship that had survived two decades.
But when Eleanor opened the door, she felt almost nothing.
Harrison stood near the disordered bed.
Chloe scrambled to cover herself with the nearest garment.
She chose Eleanor’s silk robe.
“In my bed,” Eleanor said quietly. “Wearing my robe?”
Chloe looked away.
Harrison recovered first.
“Don’t make a scene.”
Eleanor almost laughed.
He had planned this.
Not the discovery, perhaps, but the aftermath.
If Eleanor shouted, he would describe her as hysterical. If she attempted to remove Chloe, he would claim she was violent. The confrontation would become the event needed to justify the board resolution.
Harrison stepped toward her.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.”
“That is usually how secrets work.”
“Leave, Eleanor.”
“This is my house.”
“Our house.”
“No. The trust purchased it before our marriage.”
Anger flashed across his face.
Chloe climbed from the bed.
“Eleanor, please let us explain.”
“How long?”
Chloe said nothing.
Eleanor looked at Harrison.
“How long?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
Harrison’s voice became cold.
“She was my first love. You’ll get over it.”
The cruelty was deliberate.
He wanted a reaction.
Eleanor refused to give him one.
She turned toward the marble nightstand, intending to collect her phone charger and leave.
Harrison grabbed her arm.
“Where are you going?”
“Let go.”
“Not until we decide what happens next.”
“There is no we.”
She pulled away.
The movement knocked the lamp sideways.
Harrison shoved her.
Eleanor stumbled against the edge of the nightstand and fell to one knee.
Pain flashed near her temple.
For a second, the room blurred.
When she looked up, Harrison was not approaching to help her.
He was comforting Chloe.
That was the moment something inside Eleanor became completely still.
She touched her temple and saw blood on her fingertips.
Harrison stared down at her.
“You always make everything dramatic.”
Eleanor removed her wedding ring.
She placed it on the carpet between them.
May you like
The sound was small, but in the silence it felt like a door closing.
Then she took out her phone.
