Chapter 14
The Letter From Lexington
Z
Six months after the heavy metal doors of the federal courthouse swung shut on Lauren Vance’s life, a quiet, unfamiliar peace settled over my family. Kyle had been promoted to a senior engineering director role, his career skyrocketing now that the anchor of Lauren’s financial sabotage had been cut from his neck. My mother’s garden was blooming brighter than ever, and her new refrigerator was always stocked for Sunday family dinners.
As for Ethan and me, we had taken the next logical step in our relationship: we were moving in together. We found a beautiful, sunlit loft in the West Loop, a blank canvas where we could build a life entirely our own, free from the ghosts of our pasts.
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I was standing in the kitchen of our new apartment, unpacking a box of ceramic mugs, when I noticed a stack of mail Ethan had brought up from the lobby. Most of it was junk—coupons, real estate flyers, and credit card offers. But near the bottom of the pile, a plain white envelope caught my eye.
There was no return address, only a red ink stamp in the upper left corner.
PROCESSED: LEXINGTON FEDERAL CORRECTIONAL INSTITUTION.
My heart skipped a beat. The ceramic mug in my hand suddenly felt very heavy. I set it down on the granite counter, my fingers trembling slightly as I picked up the envelope. It was addressed to me. Rachel Miller.
For a moment, I considered throwing it directly into the trash. The woman sitting in a federal prison cell had inflicted enough trauma on my family to last a lifetime. I didn't owe her my time, and I certainly didn't owe her my attention. But the old, protective instincts that had kept me alive during my divorce whispered in my ear. Know your enemy.
I grabbed a butter knife, slit the envelope open, and pulled out a single sheet of lined, yellow legal paper. The handwriting was sharp, jagged, and unmistakably Lauren’s.
Rachel,
I’m sure you’re enjoying your victory lap. You always were so desperate to play the hero. But you don't know the whole truth. You think Ethan is your savior? You think he tracked me down just to get justice for a broken engagement?
Ask him about the Cayman accounts. Ask him why he really needed that private investigator. He didn't just find me to protect you. He found me because I knew what he did at his old architectural firm before he met you. I took the fall, but he built the trap.
Watch your back. Monsters don't change their stripes; they just find new victims.
- L
May you like
I stared at the letter, reading the venomous words over and over again until the yellow paper began to blur. A cold, familiar dread threatened to creep into my chest—the exact same paralyzing doubt my ex-husband used to plant in my mind.
But then, I took a deep breath. The scent of rain and fresh coffee filled the loft. I wasn't the same woman I was three years ago. I didn't live in the shadows of paranoia anymore. I folded the letter neatly in half, slipped it into my pocket, and waited for Ethan to come home.
