A woman with a striking face opened the door.
"Hi. Who are you looking for?"
I wanted to be sure I had the right person, so I kept my composure and asked.
"Are you Ms. Gray?"
She nodded.
Once I had my confirmation, I held up the shopping bag.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Understanding crossed her face. She stepped aside and let me through.
So she'd already guessed who I was.
The moment I walked in, the place hit me like a slap—Gucci heels in the shoe cabinet, a Burberry scarf tossed over the sofa, a Louis Vuitton coat on the standing rack by the door, a Chanel bag sitting on the coffee table.
All of it.
I didn't know how much Daniel had paid for, but I knew he'd paid for plenty.
Julia caught the look in my eyes, and a flicker of contempt crossed her face.
"Oh, that Daniel. He's always buying me things like these. I keep telling him no, stop, I don't need them—but he just won't listen."
"But then again, he's not wrong, is he? A woman's got to look good. After all, how a woman looks is how her man looks. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Weiss?"
I didn't answer, and Julia couldn't have cared less—she lifted the shopping bag right out of my hands as if I were a delivery girl.
"This must be the purse Daniel ordered for me last month?"
"I've had my eye on this one for ages. How sweet of you to make a special trip, Miss Weiss…"
I couldn't listen to another word. My palm cracked across her face hard enough to cut her off mid-sentence.
She was clutching her cheek, mouth open to scream, when the front door swung wide.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
He was carrying bags of meat and vegetables, clearly here to cook lunch.
The second he saw me, panic flooded his face.
"Ev— Evie, what are you doing here?"
Something clenched around my heart so hard I almost couldn't breathe.
Six years of marriage, and Daniel had never once bought groceries, never once cooked a meal—always too busy with work, he said. Even when I was nine months pregnant, I was the one dragging myself to the market, standing over the stove with my belly in the way. And now here was my husband, carrying groceries to another woman's door like her errand dog.
I didn't answer him. I pointed at Julia and looked him dead in the eye.
"Who is she?"
Daniel dropped the bags and rushed over, trying to grab my hand.
"Let's go, Evie, come on—not here. We go home, I'll explain at home."