Chapter 35: A Trap for the mouse
Chapter 35: A Trap for the mouse
Renee’s POV
Panic hits me before my feet even touch the floor.
Sarah is at the house.
My house…no, the house she thinks is mine.
My heart slams against my ribs as Lydia’s words replay in my head. Unannounced. Early. Emotional. All the worst combinations. What excuse could I possibly have for not being there this early? What if she snoops? What if she notices the closets, the rooms, the way nothing quite carries her scent?
What if she realizes I don’t live there?
My fingers curl into the bedsheet as my mind races ahead of itself, leaping into disaster after disaster. This plan has been too precise, too careful, for something this stupid to unravel it.
“Think,” I mutter under my breath. “Think, Renee.”
The line clicks again. Lydia is still there, calm as ever.
“Ma’am,” she says, voice steady. “Don’t panic.”
Easy for her to say.
“I am panicking,” I hiss. “She’s there, Lydia. What if…”
“Gym,” Lydia cuts in smoothly.
I blink. “What?”
“You went to the gym,” she repeats. “Dress in gym clothes. Head straight to Amara’s place. When she asks, you tell her you left early for a workout.”
I freeze.
Then..slowly…I smile.
That’s… perfect.
Of course it is. Morning workouts. Discipline. Vanity. The kind of excuse no one questions, especially not from someone like me.
I let out a shaky laugh. “You’re brilliant.”
“I know right,” Lydia replies without missing a beat. “I’ll brief Amara. You get dressed. Move fast.”
“I owe you,” I say, already swinging my legs off the bed.
“You’ll repay me when this ends,” she says lightly, then hangs up.
I move on instinct.
Gym leggings. A fitted top. Sneakers. Hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. Ten minutes flat, and I’m already sweating…not from exercise, but from nerves and haste. I grab my phone and head downstairs.
“Mrs. Morris,” I call.
The head maid appears immediately, eyes widening when she sees me dressed like this.
“Ma’am, you called…”
“Please tidy the table,” I say quickly. “And don’t bother making lunch. I’ll be out.”
She hesitates. “And dinner, ma’am?”
I pause only long enough to sound casual. “I’ll inform you if I’ll be back tonight.”
Then I’m gone.
The drive feels endless. Every red light taunts me. Every slow car in front of me feels like sabotage. By the time I reach Amara’s house, my pulse is roaring in my ears.
Sarah is already there.
She barely waits for me to step inside before she breaks.
A loud, broken sob tears out of her chest as she rushes forward. “Why weren’t you home?” she cries. “I came and you weren’t there, Renee. I thought…”
“I went for a morning workout,” I say gently, gesturing to my outfit with a small laugh. “That’s the secret to looking this good at thirty-two.”
It lands.
Her sob falters, confusion flickering through her grief. I guide her to the couch, sit beside her, drape an arm around her trembling shoulders.
“What happened?” I ask softly.
She dissolves.
Words pour out between gasps. Her clash with her mother-in-law. The venom. The insults. Clark taking his mother’s side. Walking out. Coming home drunk. Lipstick on his shirt. On his collar.
“He’s cheating on me,” she sobs. “I know it.”
Inside, something warm and triumphant curls in my chest.
On the outside, I hold her tighter. Murmur comfort. Stroke her hair.
When she tells me she confronted him and he denied it, I have to bite down on my smile.
“That’s what men do,” I say calmly when she looks at me for guidance. “They lie.”
She sniffles, eyes red. “What do I do?”
This is my opening.
“You need evidence,” I say gently. “Solid evidence. Something that pins him. Something that ruins him.”
Her head snaps up. “What?”
“If you want the truth,” I continue, lowering my voice, “you can’t fight rumors. You fight facts. Proof. Once you have that, his career, his reputation….everything collapses.”
Her expression hardens, fear giving way to offense.
“I don’t want to ruin him,” she says sharply. “I want my husband back.”
I tilt my head. “And you think you can have a cheating man and a happy home?”
Her eyes flash. “You’re trying to destroy my marriage.”
The accusation stings…not because it’s wrong, but because she’s not supposed to see it yet.
“I’m trying to save you,” I say.
She stands abruptly. “Coming here was a mistake.”
She wipes her tears with the back of her hand and turns for the door.
“Sarah…” I call after her.
She doesn’t stop.
The door slams.
Silence crashes down around me.
For a moment, I just sit there, stunned. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She was meant to cling to my words, desperate, pliable. Not defensive. Not angry.
Amara steps out from the hallway. “Ma’am… what did she want this early?”
I explain, frustration tightening my chest. “I don’t understand it,” I finish. “Why wouldn’t she take my advice?”
Amara considers this, then shrugs. “She hasn’t seen the other woman as a rival yet. She thinks it’s a fling. A mistake.”
My fingers curl slowly. “And when will she see it?”
“When that woman becomes his favorite safe place,” Amara says quietly. “That’s when she’ll wake up.”
I smile.
I press a bundle of cash into Amara’s hand. “For the inconvenience.”
She bows slightly. “Always a pleasure, ma’am.”
Back in the car, I dial my father.
“Can you speed up Clark’s suspension resolution?” I ask without preamble.
He exhales heavily. “Renee…”
“Trust me,” I say softly.
A pause. Then, “It’ll be resolved before the day ends.”
I grin. “Thank you, Dad.”
As I hang up, excitement hums through me. Now all that’s left is timing.
How do I cross paths with Clark next?
And then it clicks.
His mother.
She promised to set us up.
I dial Mrs. Wayne’s number. She answers on the second ring, delighted.
“Renee! I was just thinking of you.”
“How lovely,” I purr. “I was hoping we could have dinner tomorrow.”
She practically squeals. “Of course! I’ll bring a surprise.”
I smile to myself as I end the call.
I know exactly who that surprise is.
And that’s exactly what I want.