A Cruel Flex—Then the Reveal
In the small room, I noticed the faint lines near her eyes that even expensive makeup couldn’t hide.
“You look thin,” she said, assessing.
“Grief does that,” I replied.
She twisted her ring. “We bought a Cape house. Eight bedrooms. Private beach.”
Silence.
“Thinking about a baby soon,” she added. “Nathan’s company acquired two startups. We’re turning the third floor into a nursery.”
“Congratulations,” I said evenly. “Did you want to discuss anything about the service?”
Her smile sharpened. “Just thought you’d want to know how well we’re doing. Poor you, still alone at thirty-eight. I got the man, the money, the mansion.”
Six years ago, those words would have gutted me. Today, I only felt tired.
I smiled gently. “Have you met my husband?”
Her expression faltered.
“Zachary,” I called, opening the door. “Come meet my sister.”
Zachary stepped in. Behind him appeared Nathan, keeping an eye on everything. The moment the men saw each other, color drained from Nathan’s face.
“Foster,” he said, voice unsteady.
“Reynolds,” Zachary replied, calm and composed. “Been a while. Not since that acquisition, right?”
“You two are married?” Nathan asked, his throat tight.
“Two wonderful years,” I said, threading my fingers through Zachary’s.
“Foster Investments?” Stephanie repeated.
“The same,” Zachary said politely. “We met at a conference.”
Nathan tried to recover. “We should catch up, Foster. Possible collaborations.”
“My schedule’s packed,” Zachary said cordially but firm. “Feel free to contact my office.”
The funeral director appeared. “We’re ready to begin.”
Summary: The tables quietly turn.
