The Sister Who Stole My Life and the Husband Who Paid the Price
But it wouldn’t save Chloe.
I clicked the red button in the corner of the browser tab.
The screen went gray, and the banking portal logged me out.
I closed the laptop lid with a soft click.
The silence in my kitchen was heavy, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.
I picked up my mug of cold coffee and took a sip, but it tasted like copper.
I unlocked my phone again and began to type.
“Whose name is on the lease?” I texted back.
The reply came almost instantly.
“Melanie Harper.”
I stood up so fast my wooden chair scraped loudly against the floor.
Melanie Harper.
I knew that name.
She had worked with Lucas at the consulting firm downtown.
She was the sharp junior associate who had suddenly vanished from the company directory last autumn.
I remembered Lucas telling me she had been let go for poor performance.
He had shrugged it off, calling her “unstable” over dinner one night.
I looked out the kitchen window at the grey Denver sky.
A light snow was beginning to fall, dusting the bare branches of the oak tree in the backyard.