The bourbon bottle felt heavy in my hands as I stood before the cabin door, my heartbeat quickening with anticipation after traveling twelve hours to surprise my husband, David. Then I heard his voice through the weathered wood, words that froze the smile on my face and shattered my world.
“If she vanished, that insurance money could clear my debts.”
My husband’s voice was casual, almost thoughtful, as if discussing the weather. A burst of laughter followed, then his friend’s voice. “Or you could finally date her sister, guilt-free.”
More laughter. My fingers tightened around the bottle of Blanton’s, his favorite bourbon, the gift I’d carried across three states suddenly feeling like a prop in a horror play.
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