His Betrayal, My Rebirth (Wives Who Bite Back #19)

1. A Clean Exit

Chapter one

A Clean Exit

“Ijust need a few more weeks, Sienna. Once the baby comes, the trust vests into the joint account. The money becomes marital property.”

The thin plastic of the pharmacy bag cut into my fingers. I shifted my weight, trying to relieve the throbbing pressure in my lower back. I’d only been gone an hour and a half.

The drive into town usually took over an hour, but the midday traffic had been completely dead. The brutal late-August heat was baking the mountain roads until the asphalt cracked, keeping the tourists down by the lake.

I had wrestled my swollen, seven-month-pregnant body in and out of the sweltering car specifically to buy a tiny, overpriced tube of imported face cream.

Sienna had spent the previous evening pouting on the porch over a glass of Cabernet—a wine I couldn’t drink.

“This ridiculous high-altitude air is ruining my complexion,” she’d complained.

So, I grabbed my keys. I fell right back into my old habits, rushing out to fix her problems before they could escalate into a mood.

I had actually been thrilled she was visiting. I viewed this quiet weekend at my late grandmother Esther’s cabin as a genuine olive branch. A chance for us to sit on the porch, drink coffee, and reconnect before my due date anchored me to a city apartment.

Instead, I stood frozen in the hallway.

“It’s just so gross thinking of you touching her,” Sienna murmured. Her voice drifted through the partially open bedroom door, unmistakable and lazy. “I want that house in Tulum, Chase.”

“We’ll get the house,” Chase replied, his tone low. The exact gentle cadence he used to calm me down when I worried about the nursery budget.

I took a slow step forward. The dusty pine floorboards, usually prone to groaning underfoot, stayed silent beneath my sneakers. I remained rooted to the spot, barely registering the rustle of the pines outside the window.

I pressed my palm flat against the side of my stomach. Beneath my sweater, the baby shifted, a heavy, rolling pressure against my ribs that sent a sharp ache radiating down my spine.

I nudged the bedroom door open with my shoulder.

The cloying scent of Sienna’s signature vanilla perfume hit me first, mingling with the sour smell of sex in the stagnant heat of the room. They were in Esther’s old iron-frame bed, the faded floral sheets shoved all the way down to their waists.

Sienna was lying on her back, her blonde hair tangled and spilled across Esther’s handmade pillowcases. She was tracing a lazy circle on Chase’s bare chest with her manicured fingernail.

“I believe you, babe.” Sienna giggled softly, not looking up from his chest. “And I have to admit… stringing her along like this does have its satisfying moments.”

The sight of their entwined bodies sent a sudden, cold wave of nausea through me.

I stared at my husband’s hand resting on my sister’s hip.

For so long, I’d thought Chase loved me.

I thought he looked forward to having a daughter, just like I did.

And Sienna… No matter what differences we’d had in the past, I never would have dreamed she’d betray me like this.

It hadn’t been a whim, either. They had orchestrated this, planning to rob me blind.

Esther had left me two million, three hundred thousand dollars. Three months ago, as I sat at our kitchen table, Chase had gently rubbed my shoulders and pushed the bank paperwork across the wood.

“It’s the responsible thing to do for our daughter’s future,” he’d said, kissing the top of my head.

I had signed the forms, transferring the funds out of my private inheritance account and into a joint family trust. The trap finally made sense. He was just waiting out the pregnancy, biding his time until the joint account clause activated. I was just a mark.

I was nothing more than a mark.

“You’re not getting a dime.”

Chase jerked backward. He pulled away from Sienna so fast he nearly rolled off the edge of the mattress, the old iron bedsprings shrieking under his weight. Sienna gasped, sitting up and crossing her arms over her bare chest.

I set the pharmacy bag down on the hallway table. The sharp crinkle of plastic cut through the sudden, heavy silence.

I looked at my sister, waiting for the horror to set in, waiting for her to stammer out an apology.

Instead, she lazily reached down and pulled the floral sheet over her breasts.

Her mouth pressed into a thin, annoyed line, as if I had simply walked in on her borrowing one of my sweaters without asking.

“Jesus, Wren.” Sienna sighed, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Do you always have to sneak up on people?”

Chase was already scrambling for his clothes on the floor. The heavy silver buckle of his belt clinked against the bedframe as he struggled to pull his trousers up. He took a hesitant step toward me, holding his hands up with his palms facing out.

“Calm down,” Chase said. He slipped instantly into his ‘client-management’ voice—the smooth, patronizing tone he used when a portfolio underperformed. “Just take a breath. It’s not what it looks like.”

I stared at the fresh red welt stamped onto the side of his neck. A sharp knot of nausea formed in my stomach. Just that morning, he had kissed my forehead. He had placed his hand on my swollen belly and smiled.

“You were waiting for my baby to be born so you could rob me?” I asked, my voice refusing to shake. “Pack your shit. Both of you.”

“Don’t yell at him!” Sienna snapped from the mattress. She pulled Esther’s quilt higher, her eyes narrowing. “You’ve always been so demanding. You pushed him away! You have no idea what it’s been like for him, dealing with your moods for the last seven months.”

Every lingering instinct I had to protect her vanished. I looked back at Chase, seeing right past the expensive haircut and the panic in his eyes. I saw the greed.

“You’ve been checking the trust account,” I said. “Tracking the vesting date.”

Chase adjusted his collar. He tried for a sympathetic smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Honey, your hormones are all over the place. We were just talking hypotheticals. You’re incredibly stressed right now.”

“Two million, three hundred thousand dollars,” I said, taking a step backward into the living room. “Get out of my grandmother’s house.”

I turned my back on them. My knees trembled under the unbalanced weight of my belly, forcing me to seek out the rocking chair by the window. I grabbed the edge of Esther’s crocheted afghan, desperate to touch something that belonged to someone who had actually loved me.

Behind me, Chase sighed. The sound echoed through the quiet cabin, loud and irritated.

His bare feet scraped against the floorboards. He walked into the living room, casually threading his belt through his belt loops. In the bedroom, the bedsprings squeaked as Sienna fluffed a pillow and settled back against the headboard.

“We’re staying right here, Wren,” Chase said. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re acting completely irrational. We are going to sit down and talk about this when you stop throwing a tantrum.”

I didn’t answer him. I wasn’t even looking at him.

I was staring past his shoulder, out the large living room window. While we’d been arguing, the bright summer sunlight had vanished. The sky above the tree line had turned a bruised, sickly purple.

The air pressure inside the cabin suddenly dropped. A heavy, dead sensation pushed against my eardrums. A sharp scent of burning pine sap drifted through the window screens.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” Chase demanded, his voice hardening with annoyance.

Before I could answer, the neighbor’s dog began to wail. It was a high-pitched shriek of pure terror. Then came the vibration. A deep rumble shook the floorboards and rattled the teacups inside Esther’s kitchen cabinets.

“Chase?” Sienna called from the bedroom. “What is that?”

A wall of fire crested the ridge a quarter-mile away.

Driven by the high summer winds, it chewed through the dry brush at terrifying speed.

The heat hit the window glass instantly, radiating into the living room.

Gray ash began to sift through the window sills.

Thick smoke curled under the front door.

Chase stumbled backward. The slick arrogance melted right off his face.

“Sienna, get up!” Chase screamed, his false composure shattering instantly. “Get out here now!”

Sienna burst into the living room a second later, barefoot and clutching her clothes to her chest. She took one look at the hellish glow outside the window and shrieked.

“The car!” Sienna sobbed, sprinting toward the exit. “Chase, the car!”

They bolted for the front door. I tried to follow them, but the sharp jolt of panic was useless against the reality of being seven months pregnant. As I lunged forward, the awkward, shifting weight of the baby dragged me down. My foot caught the edge of the braided rug, and I went down hard.

My knee slammed into the pine floorboards. A bright pain shot up my leg. Woodsmoke filled the back of my throat, harsh and choking, bringing immediate tears to my eyes.

“Wait.” I coughed. I grabbed the heavy arm of the sofa, dragging myself up. “I can’t move fast. Help me.”

Chase yanked the front door open. The roar of the fire swelled, a terrifying wall of sound that drowned out the wind. Smoke billowed onto the porch, completely obscuring the driveway.

“Go, go, get out!” Chase yelled at Sienna, shoving her outside into the haze.

“Chase,” I pleaded, finally finding my footing. I reached my hand out toward him, coughing as the thick air hit my lungs. “Take my arm, I can’t—”

Chase stepped out onto the porch, and I could have sobbed in relief. Everything he had done in the bedroom—the deceit, the money—none of it mattered right now. We just had to survive. I knew he would reach back for me. At the very least, he would always want to protect our baby.