Mariana’s clothes were completely gone. In their place were Chloe’s designer dresses, shoes, and perfume bottles scattered across the vanity. Even Chloe’s college diploma was framed on the nightstand.
I opened the walk-in closet. Not a single item belonging to my wife remained.
Hearing footsteps, I stepped back into the shadows of the hallway. Chloe walked past, chatting casually on her phone. “Mom says Julian will finally understand when he sees the paperwork,” she said with a laugh.
I waited until she turned the corner, then followed the quiet hallway toward the back of the house.
At the far end, behind the kitchen pantries, sat a narrow door left slightly ajar. Inside was a small single cot, two cardboard boxes, and a folding card table.
Mariana was sitting on the edge of the cot, carefully folding a blouse. Draped over the small table was the wool coat I had gifted her for our anniversary. Every single piece of her life had been reduced to what could fit inside that tiny maid’s room.
Then my mother appeared in the doorway.
“We’re having family breakfast in the dining room tomorrow at eight,” Evelyn announced coldly.
Mariana didn’t turn around. “I know.”
“Make sure you eat in here beforehand.”
“Why?”
“Because I won’t tolerate any uncomfortable scenes in front of our relatives.”
Mariana closed her eyes tightly. “Evelyn, that is my dining table too.”
My mother let out a sharp, cruel laugh. “Julian purchased every square inch of this estate. Don’t confuse being married to him with actually owning anything.”
I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from roaring in rage.
Then Mariana said something that shifted my horror into sharp intrigue:
“Keep repeating that, Evelyn. You might need to remember those exact words very soon.”
My mother went dead silent. So did I.
Because in that moment, I realized my wife wasn’t just enduring this abuse. She was waiting for something.
And the next morning, I found out exactly what it was.
