Chapter three: The anniversary gift
1019 Words
Richard was already home when I pulled into the driveway, his car parked in its usual spot, freshly washed and gleaming under the afternoon sun.
I checked my face in the rearview mirror. No red eyes. No trembling lips. Just my usual face, a little tired, a little soft. The face he had grown comfortable lying to.
I walked inside with a bag of groceries and a smile.
"There you are." Richard appeared from the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. He crossed the room in three strides and pulled me into his arms. "I missed you. The conference was boring without you nagging me about my posture during presentations."
His cologne filled my nose. The same brand he wore since our first date. My stomach turned, but I forced my body to relax against his chest.
"How was it?" I asked, setting the groceries on the counter. "Did you present the new research?"
"Killed it. Three hospitals want to partner with us now." He grinned, that wide boyish grin that used to make my heart race. "How about you? What did you do while I was gone?"
"Nothing exciting. Cleaned the house. Helped Innocent with his reading. Watched a movie."
The lie came easily. Easier than I expected.
"You work too hard around here," Richard said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I should hire more help so you can rest."
"Actually," I leaned against the kitchen island and tilted my head, "there is something I want to talk about."
"Name it."
"Our anniversary is in two weeks."
His smile flickered. A tiny flash of something behind his eyes, guilt or panic, gone in a second.
"Of course. Three years." He recovered smoothly. "I already have plans. Dinner at that restaurant you love by the harbor."
"That sounds lovely. But I have a different kind of gift in mind."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "What does my brilliant wife want?"
I held his gaze and let a slow smile spread across my face.
"The research lab."
He blinked. "What?"
"The lab at the main clinic. Where all my formulas are developed. I want you to transfer it into my name."
Silence hung between us. Richard's smile did not drop, but it froze in place.
"Shaznay, why would you want that? It is already ours. What is mine is yours."
"Then putting my name on it should not be a problem."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "For tax purposes, and the upcoming restructure, it would be complicated to move ownership right now."
"Richard." I stepped closer and placed my hand on his chest. "For three years, I have run that lab. Every formula, every compound, every trial. I did it all. You have seven clinics, new hospital partnerships, and a growing empire. All I am asking for is the one thing that is already mine in every way except on paper."
His jaw tightened. I could see the calculation behind his eyes. Weighing risks. If he refused, I might get suspicious. If he agreed, he lost legal control over formulas he had been selling behind my back.
But he did not know that I already knew.
"It is our anniversary," I whispered, softening my voice. "You always say you want to give me the world. Just give me this one small piece."
He exhaled. His shoulders loosened. There it was, that smile he always gave when he decided to play the generous husband.
"If it makes you happy, I will have the lawyer draw up papers this week."
"Today," I said. "I want it done today."
Another pause. His eyes searched my face for any sign. But all he saw was his sweet, trusting, sick wife wanting a romantic gesture.
"Fine. Today."
"Thank you." I pressed a kiss to his cheek. His skin felt like paper under my lips.
He disappeared into his study to make the call, and I went upstairs to check on Innocent. The boy sat on the floor of his room, drawing with crayons. He looked up when I appeared in the doorway.
"Shaznay, look." He held up a drawing. Three stick figures. A tall man, a woman with long hair, and a smaller woman beside them. No child in the picture.
"Who is that?" I pointed at the smaller woman.
"That is Dorinda."
My breath caught, but my voice stayed casual. "Who is Dorinda?"
"Daddy's friend. She comes when you sleep. She brings me chocolate."
I knelt beside him and smoothed his hair. This child. This poor, confused child, used as a weapon without ever knowing it. Whatever the truth of his parents was, he did not deserve this.
"That is a very nice drawing. Do you want to help me make dinner?"
"Okay." He dropped his crayons and took my hand. His small fingers gripped mine with trust, and something in my chest ached.
That night, after dinner, Richard handed me a printed transfer document. The research lab, all equipment, all formulas stored within, all associated patents pending, were now registered in my name.
"Happy early anniversary," he said, watching me sign.
"You are the best husband." I smiled at him, and he believed every ounce of it.
After he went to bed, I stayed up in the kitchen. I sorted through every photo I took of his secret phone messages, screenshotted every payment record, downloaded every document from his cloud that mentioned my work.
Then I opened a new email.
To: Matthew
Subject: Documentation Package
Attached are records proving intellectual property theft, fraud, and bigamy. Please secure these for legal proceedings. I will advise on timing.
I hit send.
Upstairs, my fake husband slept peacefully. Two doors down, a child who was not his nephew dreamed his small dreams. And somewhere in this city, a woman named Dorinda waited for her real husband to come home.
Enjoy him, I thought. He is all yours. But everything he built with my hands, my mind, my formulas? That belongs to me.
I turned off the kitchen light and walked upstairs, counting each step like a countdown to something new.
- Writer
