Chapter 3

During the day at the office, I discussed wedding dress styles with colleagues and tasted wedding cake samples, playing the happy bride to perfection.

After work, I dove straight into the gym.

I'd put on my protective gear, strap on my gloves, and the mouth that had just been texting "honey" would be gritting its teeth counting reps as I pounded the punching bag.

The coach designed a special training regimen for me focused on defending against and countering roundhouse kicks.

"You said your opponent specializes in roundhouse kicks?"

"Yes."

"What level?"

"Underground fight club sparring partner."

The coach frowned.

"People from underground fight clubs have dirty leg techniques. They don't follow proper form—they kick straight for vital points."

He pulled up footage from an underground fight to show me.

"See that? They make a small hip movement before they kick. Very fast, less than 0.3 seconds."

"What you need to do is dodge sideways to deflect the force within those 0.3 seconds, then close in for infighting."

I nodded and practiced over and over.

When I backed a six-foot-tall muscular guy into a corner, he instinctively protected his groin.

The coach cursed him for being useless, but I saw the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

That evening, my best friend Sophie came to pick me up from the gym.

When she saw the black and blue marks all over my arms, her eyes immediately welled up.

"Lynette, have you lost your mind? Why are you torturing yourself like this?"

I took off my protective gear and twisted open a bottle of water, downing a couple of gulps.

"Look at what I investigated."

I handed her my phone.

On the screen were screenshots of transaction records sent by a private investigator.

Holt's online loans: eighty-three thousand dollars.

Sixty-two thousand of it spent on a Cartier bracelet. Recipient: Chelsea.

Sophie's eyes went wide.

"That bastard took out loans to buy Cartier for that woman? What has he ever bought you? For your birthday, a nine-dollar bouquet of baby's breath with free shipping! Call off the wedding, Lynette! Don't marry him!"

I shook my head and took back my phone.

"That's exactly why I can't call it off. I need to make him get on his knees and cough up everything he's swallowed."

Sophie looked at me, her expression changing.

"Lynette, I don't know exactly what you're planning to do, but whatever it is, I'm on your side."

I watched her leave, then bent down to continue hitting the punching bag.

Three days before the wedding, I received the investigator's final audio recording, captured in Holt's car.

The recording featured Chelsea's voice.

"Holt, after the wedding she'll be finished. That house in her name was bought with cash, right? When you transfer it to your name, we can move in together. Won't that be perfect?"

Holt laughed. "What's the rush? After we get her house and transfer out her savings, then the marriage will have been worth it."

Chelsea giggled. "Holt, you're so bad."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it."

The recording cut off there.

I sat on the bench in the gym locker room and listened to it three times.

My hands were steady enough to back up that recording to three different cloud storage accounts.

Then I transferred the final payment to the investigator with a note: Excellent work, exceeded expectations.