Over the next three days she sent me Hubert's full itinerary, message after message. I forwarded every single one to my private investigator and told them to move fast.
Ding.
Another taunt.
Clarissa had sent a photo, smug as ever. It was a cemetery plot.
When I made out the names on the headstones, my pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Clarissa called. My fingers were shaking as I answered.
She let out two soft laughs, her tone laced with venom. "What do you think about me bulldozing this place and putting up a nice public restroom?"
My mind went blank for a split second. I ground my molars together. "What the hell do you want, Clarissa?"
Hubert had bought that plot for my parents. He'd stood beside me in the rain that day and whispered, "From now on, I'm your only family. Wherever you are, that's home."
Promises from another lifetime. Punchlines now.
Clarissa's voice kept coming, relentless: "You saw me in bed with him, and you still had the nerve to crawl back. Shameless."
"I was this close to marrying him. I'm the one who should be Mrs. Stephens!"
"You ruined my life, you worthless little tramp. So don't expect me to make yours easy."
She hung up without waiting for a reply.