Chapter 6

After the preschool incident, Chloe vanished for three days.

She sent a short message on SnapChat claiming she was swamped with end-of-term evaluations.

Ethan stared at that text for five minutes before smashing his phone into the wastebasket.

He began fiercely rejecting his physical therapy.

When the visiting therapist knocked, he locked the door.

When the home nurse tried to adjust his posture, he hurled profanities.

When Evelyn carried a tray of food into his room, he threw the plates right back out into the hall.

One night, I heard strange thuds coming from his bedroom.

It wasn't crying.

It was the dull, rhythmic sound of heavy fists smashing repeatedly into his own dead thighs.

I stood outside the door for a moment, listening, before turning around and heading back to the sofa.

Meanwhile, Carter Auto was unraveling.

Thomas had pre-existing health issues—chronic hypertension and severe lumbar disc herniation. The shop had relied entirely on Ethan's youth and skill.

With Ethan paralyzed, the veteran mechanics began walking all over Thomas.

Some took lucrative private side jobs behind his back; the parts manager pocketed kickbacks from suppliers; others cracked beers during their shifts.

Thomas screamed at the crew until his blood pressure spiked to 180, nearly collapsing on the greasy shop floor.

In the end, I was the one who stepped into the bay.

Before I married Ethan, I had worked as a mechanic for three years. I started from the bottom and knew how to disassemble and rebuild every engine in town.

After our wedding, Ethan banned me from touching tools, saying a woman with oil-stained hands was an embarrassment.

Now, nobody dared complain about the smell of oil on my skin.

I reorganized the shop’s accounting ledgers, fired the corrupt purchasing agent on the spot, and overhauled the shift schedules.

Then I called our commercial fleet clients, locking in long-term fleet maintenance contracts.

Within two weeks, our net revenue actually climbed higher than when Ethan was running the floor.

The way Thomas looked at me shifted completely.

In the past, he treated me like a rag—thinking his college-educated son had married down by taking in a girl from vocational trade school.

Now, he said gently: "Don't work past midnight, Nora. Take care of your health."

Evelyn even started saving the best portions of dinner for me.

"Nora, dear, I stewed some pork ribs today. Eat up, you've been working so hard."

In four years of marriage, that was the first time she had called me by my name with genuine warmth.

Before, she only ever referred to me as "that girl" or "Ethan's wife."

The extended family was even more blunt:

"The Carters would be ruined if it weren't for Nora."

"Thomas, your daughter-in-law is a godsend."

"With Ethan like this, thank God there's a capable woman keeping the roof over your heads."

When those whispers drifted back to Ethan’s bedroom, he went on another rampage, smashing everything within arm's reach.

That night, he summoned me into his room.

The heavy blackout curtains were drawn shut, the air thick and choking with stale cigarette smoke.

He leaned against the headboard, his eyes cold and predatory.

"Nora, you must be feeling pretty damn smug, aren't you?"

I placed his evening medication on the nightstand.

"You're overthinking things."

He glared at me: "The garage belongs to my father. You're worming your way in and taking control—what’s your angle?"

I looked him dead in the eye.

"Ethan, your dad’s blood pressure nearly gave him a stroke on the shop floor. You can’t run the business right now. Someone has to."

He sneered bitterly: "So you've just been waiting for this? Waiting for me to become a cripple so you can steal the shop?"

I handed him a glass of water.

"If you don't trust me, hurry up and get on your feet so you can take it back yourself."

His hand jerked.

Those words sounded like encouragement, but they were pure poison to his pride.

He fell silent for a long time before swallowing the pills with a trembling gulp.

I turned toward the door.

From behind me came his low, menacing rasp.

"Nora, you'd better be sincere about this."

I closed the door behind me without looking back.

Don't worry, Ethan.

Every single move I make is entirely sincere.

I am sincerely waiting for you to walk yourself into an inescapable grave.

***