Chapter 3

After more than an hour of cooking, the food was on the table at last. Michael shuffled out of the bedroom, still groggy, and dropped into his chair.

"Mom, give Rachel's cooking a try. It's pretty good," he said, lifting a piece of salmon onto Barbara's plate.

Barbara took a bite, and her face pinched immediately. "It needs salt. And I can taste the fishiness. The texture's off, too. She cooked it too long."

She set her fork down and turned to me. "Rachel, I'm only saying this because I care. Cooking is a basic skill every woman should have.

"You need to practice. Otherwise, how are you going to look after Michael properly?"

My hand stopped midair, my fork hovering over my plate.

Michael tried to smooth things over. "Mom, come on. I think it tastes fine."

"You're too easy on her," Barbara shot him a look, then swung her attention back to me. "Rachel, Michael tells me the two of you are splitting everything down the middle from now on. Is that right?

"That's wonderful. I completely support it. Modern women should stand on their own two feet. But about the housework..."

She paused, letting her eyes sweep across the living room, which I had spent the morning scrubbing until it gleamed. "If you're splitting the bills, you should split the chores too.

"We can't have Michael doing more than his fair share. From now on, you two should take turns with the cleaning, the cooking, and the dishes.

"Since Michael's job keeps him so busy, you'll naturally pick up a bit more of the load. Of course, it's only right that you get something for the extra work.

"Michael can chip in a little each month. Two hundred sixty dollars, isn't that the number? Honestly, that's more than fair. You won't find a cleaning service that pays much better."

I set my fork down. "Barbara, your husband Robert doesn't help out around the house, too?"

Barbara's face tightened. "That is completely different. Robert comes home exhausted from work. I'm being considerate.

"You, on the other hand, have it easy. Sitting at a desk all day, typing on a keyboard. How tiring can that possibly be?

"A few extra chores won't hurt you. Besides, a woman who keeps her hands busy is a woman who stays out of trouble."

"Exactly," Tina chimed in, snatching the last chicken wing from the platter and talking through a full mouth. "Rachel, you really lucked out marrying my brother.

"He's such a catch. Half the women in this city would trade places with you in a heartbeat. You should be grateful for what you have instead of acting like any of this is a burden."

Michael kept his head down, quietly eating, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth was unmistakable. He was soaking up every word his mother and sister said.

I nodded and picked up my fork again. "You're right, Barbara. I'll make sure to be properly grateful."

After lunch, Barbara and Tina did not carry a single plate to the sink. They settled into the living room, turned on the television, and helped themselves to the bowl of fruit on the coffee table.

Michael retreated to his study, announcing that he had work to catch up on.

I was left alone with the wreckage of the meal. I washed the dishes, scrubbed the pans, wiped down the counters, and mopped the floor.

By the time I finished, my back ached so badly I had to brace myself against the counter to stand upright.

From the living room, Tina's voice rang out. "Rachel, we're out of cherries. Go wash some more."

"There aren't any left in the fridge," I said.

"So go buy some," Tina said, as though this were the most reasonable request in the world. "The market downstairs carries them. The imported ones, the big dark ones. Hurry up, I'm craving them."

Barbara added, "Go on, Rachel. Tina doesn't visit that often. And while you're out, pick up a bottle of balsamic vinegar. Make sure it's the aged kind."

I untied my apron and hung it on the hook. "All right, I'll go."

I did not walk to the market. I turned down the garden path instead and sat down on a bench beneath the gazebo. I pulled out my phone and called Olivia. "Liv, did you find anything?"

"I did," Liv said, her voice quick and urgent. "Sterling Holdings, Michael's company, is hiring right now for the executive office.

"They need an executive assistant to the CEO. The qualifications are demanding, but Rachel, you hit every single one. Oh my god, are you seriously thinking of applying?"

"Send me the link," I said.

"Wait, you're actually going to apply? That's Michael's company. He works in project management, not the executive suite, but what if you run into him?"

"If I don't, fine. And if I do," I paused, "that would be even better."

"Rachel, what exactly are you planning?" Liv's voice softened with concern.

"I'm taking back what's mine," I said quietly, my eyes fixed on the windows of my own apartment. "And I want to see exactly how far he and his precious mother and sister are willing to go with their ugliness."

"All right. I'm with you. I already found you a lawyer, by the way. It's my cousin. You can trust him completely. He can meet you tomorrow so you two can have a real conversation."

"Thank you, Liv."

"Don't mention it. Tell me what's happening over there right now. His mom and sister are at your place, aren't they? What are they doing?"

"They sent me out to buy cherries and balsamic vinegar."

"You have got to be joking. Are they guests or did they move in and take over? And Michael? Is he pretending nothing's happening?"

"He's in his study, supposedly working late."

"Working late, my foot. That man is a coward and a mama's boy, and you know it. Rachel, you need to get out of this marriage. The whole thing is toxic."

"I know," I said, my grip tightening on the phone. "But before I go, I need to make sure I have a path forward. And I want the truth about who they really are to come out."

After I hung up, Olivia sent me the job link. I opened it, read through the requirements carefully, updated my resume, and submitted my application.