Chapter 3

The next day, I had the locks changed before I went to work.

I came home early that afternoon.

The moment I opened the door, I saw Vanessa wandering around my living room in an oversized white garment, her bare legs on full display.

The thick glasses were gone.

As soon as she saw me, she arranged her face into a look of panic.

"Claire, please don't misunderstand. I couldn't see, and I thought this was mine."

I studied what she was wearing.

It was not a shirt.

It was a limited-edition silk couture dress that had cost me $15,000. I had deliberately hung it in Ethan's closet.

Not only had she put it on, but she had cut the hem short.

I crossed the room and slapped her.

Vanessa fell onto the couch.

"Claire! What gives you the right to hit me?"

I pointed at the dress.

"Your eyes don't work, and neither do your hands? That's a limited-edition couture dress. How did you mistake it for a man's shirt?"

She held her cheek, her eyes swimming with tears.

"I honestly couldn't tell. The cut looked like something Ethan would wear."

I nodded.

"Fine. You couldn't tell. Then what were you doing in the primary bedroom?"

The bedroom door stood wide open.

My bed was a wreck, and there was a damp stain on the sheets.

Vanessa bit her lip.

"I was exhausted. The hallway was blurry, and I opened the wrong door. Don't be mad, Claire. I'll wash the sheets right now."

I turned toward the kitchen, summoned my Parkinson's, and came back with a chef's knife trembling in my hand.

Vanessa screamed and scrambled toward the front door.

I caught up and kicked the back of her knee.

She dropped to the floor.

I raised the knife and aimed it at the silk dress.

"Since you love wearing my clothes, let me improve the design for you."

The blade flashed down and sliced through the back of the dress.

Vanessa shrieked and covered her chest.

I grabbed her by the hair, dragged her into the hallway, and threw her out.

"Get out."

She stood barefoot in the hall, barely covered by torn silk.

I shut the door.

When Ethan came home that night, he found Vanessa shivering in the hallway, wrapped in an old coat borrowed from a neighbor.

He stormed into the apartment and pointed in my face.

"Claire Bennett, you're vicious! Vanessa walked into the wrong room and put on the wrong clothes, so you threw her out half-naked? How is she supposed to face anyone after this?"

I sat on the couch, filing my nails.

"She's severely nearsighted, isn't she? Even if people stare at her, she can't see them. What's the problem?"

Ethan grabbed a glass from the table and hurled it to the floor.

"You will apologize to Vanessa, and you will let her stay here!"

I set down the nail file and stood.

"Did you forget who paid for this apartment? I bought it before we married, and my name is the only one on the deed. It's my separate property. I decide who stays and who goes. You don't get a vote."

Ethan's face darkened.

"I'm your husband. I have every right to decide who lives in our home."

I stepped close and looked him straight in the eye.

"Say one more word, and you'll be homeless too."

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

He turned around, led Vanessa away, and checked them both into a hotel.