Chapter 3
When the plane landed the day after Christmas, the sky was gray, with neither sun nor snow.
Michael was there to pick me up at the airport.
"Mr. Sterling, everything's ready," he said.
I nodded.
"Should we head to the office now, or go home first?" he asked.
"Home?" I gave a small smile. "That place doesn't feel like home to me, not for now."
The car pulled out of the airport highway.
The city still had that holiday vibe, with Christmas decorations up and streets nearly deserted.
When I got home, the gate was closed.
Mary, the housekeeper, opened the door.
She froze when she saw me. "M-Mr. Sterling, you're back already? No one gave me a heads up."
I walked in. In the living room, the Christmas Eve dinner table hadn't been cleared.
The table was a mess of dishes and glasses. Three sets of tableware were still on it. But Donna's knife and fork weren't on the table.
I found them in the kitchen. Her worn knife and fork, wooden handles bleached pale from years of washing, were left out to dry in the corner.
"Mary," I called out.
"Yes?" she replied.
"Where did my mom go on Christmas Eve?"
She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
"Go on," I urged.
"I... I don't know," she stammered.
"You were here the whole time. You didn't see anything?"
"Mrs. Sterling... Mrs. Sterling told me to head home early for Christmas."
"So no one saw my mom get kicked out?"
Her face went pale.
I didn't ask any more questions.
I went upstairs. The master bedroom door was closed. I pushed it open.
Emily wasn't there. I could hear water running in the bathroom.
I stood at the doorway, not going in. My eyes swept over the dressing table.
There was a bottle of men's cologne. It wasn't mine.
There was a charger on the nightstand. It wasn't for my phone model.
The closet door was slightly open. A gray hoodie, size XL, hung inside. I wore size L.
The water stopped running. Emily came out wrapped in a bathrobe.
She looked startled when she saw me. "Why are you back? I thought your flight was delayed."
Her expression flickered for a moment, then she smiled and walked over, trying to take my arm.
I pulled away. "Where's Adam?" I asked.
She froze. "Adam? What are you talking about?"
"The guy you brought home on Christmas Eve."
Her smile started to falter. "Oh, just a coworker. What's the big deal?"
"What kind of coworker? How old is he? Which school did he graduate from? When did he start working there?" I took my time, asking one question after another.
"James, what are you getting at?"
"What am I getting at?" I pulled out my phone and showed her the security camera screenshots.
She wrapped her bathrobe tighter around herself. "Are you checking up on me?"
"I'm not checking up on you. I checked the security footage from my front door."
"That's not fair."
"This is my house." My voice rose a notch. "While my mom was eating instant noodles at a convenience store on Christmas Eve, you were inside having Christmas dinner with him."
"I didn't kick her out. She said she wanted to step out for some air."
"Emily."
She stopped.
"You think my mom would leave on her own?" I asked.
She didn't say a word.
I stepped closer. "She spent three days getting ready for that Christmas Eve dinner. She said you wanted her to make dinner rolls, so she got up early to knead the dough.
"She made your favorite marinated meat before Christmas, and saved it in the fridge for you. You think she'd walk out on her own?"
Emily turned her face away. "She said she wanted to give us some space."
"Space for you and who?"
She didn't say a word.
Suddenly, I felt exhausted.
She was the one I married. I always thought she was just spoiled, with everything handed to her. But I never imagined she could be this heartless.
"Emily, where's your wedding ring?" I asked.
Her hand went to her finger without thinking. Her finger was bare. "I took it off when I showered last night."
"Did you wear it on Christmas Eve?"
She stayed silent.
"I didn't see it on the security footage," I said.
"You're making a big deal out of nothing," Emily shot back.
"No, you're missing the point." I turned and headed downstairs.
She called after me from behind, "James, after all these years—"
"After all these years," I repeated, stopping on the stairs and turning to look at her. "After all these years, have you ever thought about me?"
She stood there, mouth open.
"I gave you the company, the position, money to spend as you pleased, and the freedom to hire anyone you wanted. My mother was so worried about being a bother that she moved to the back house.
"And you couldn't even let her join us for Christmas Eve dinner. You're Mrs. Sterling. Do you think that title is handed to you? Or do you think it all comes for free?" I asked.
The color drained from her face.