Mark, my husband, refused to see it. “She’s just traditional,” he’d whisper, brushing off every insult. “Don’t let it get to you, honey.”
But that day, even he couldn’t hide behind denial for long.
The Gift That Sparked the Fire
The party was reaching its peak when a delivery man appeared with a giant golden basket wrapped in shimmering plastic. It sparkled under the sun like something out of a commercial — designer baby clothes, silver rattles, monogrammed blankets. The card read: With love, Sophia.
Sophia.
Mark’s ex-girlfriend.
The one Diane never stopped comparing me to.
“Oh look!” Diane called loudly, holding up the card. “From Sophia! Such taste — a real class act.”
The words hung in the air like smoke — poisonous and deliberate.
I didn’t respond. Because in my purse was an envelope I’d been waiting weeks to reveal. Inside was the truth — proof from a private investigator confirming what I’d long suspected. Diane hadn’t just been cruel. She’d been conspiring.
All I needed was the right moment to strike.The Power Play
When the gifts were opened and laughter began to fade, Diane rose from her chair, tapping her glass for attention. Her voice cut through the garden chatter.
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