The sound of it falling into the secure bin below was a heavy, metallic thud.

It was done.

The trap was set.

I rode the elevator back down, my heart beating in a slow, steady rhythm.

For the first time in months, I felt like I was the one in control.

I was no longer the betrayed wife waiting for the pieces of her life to be handed back to her.

I was the one taking them back.

I drove back to my temporary apartment, a small place I had rented after leaving the Carter estate.

It was modest, but it was mine.

I unlocked the door, walked inside, and threw my wet coat over the back of a chair.

The apartment was quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator.

I walked to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water.

My phone, sitting on the counter, suddenly began to vibrate.

The screen lit up, casting a harsh blue glow against the dark granite.

I walked over and picked it up.

It was a text message.

But it wasn’t from Arthur, and it wasn’t from Sophia.