Chapter 3
I arrived at Starbucks ten minutes early the next night, picking a corner booth.
I ordered a coffee and gripped the cup tightly, my nerves impossible to hide.
At exactly seven o'clock, a woman walked in.
She was in her thirties, dressed neatly with light makeup.
She scanned the room, locked eyes with me, and walked straight over.
"Sophie Foster?" she asked.
"And you are..." I replied.
Instead of answering my question, she sat down across from me and pulled out her phone, showing me a photo. "Is this your car?"
I leaned in. It was my white Corolla, parked outside an unfamiliar neighborhood gate.
Linda was leaning out the driver's window, talking to a middle-aged man.
"How do you have this photo?" I asked, my voice shaky.
The woman let out a cold laugh. "Because that man is my husband."
I froze. "Your husband?"
"Ex-husband, to be precise."
She ordered a glass of water and spoke slowly, "I found out he was cheating three months ago. The other woman is Linda."
My head spun. "That can't be..."
"Can't it?" She opened her photo album and swiped through the pictures. "I have dozens of them—dates, dinners, hotel stays. All solid proof."
Image after image flashed across the screen, clear as day: Linda and a strange man, acting intimately in every shot.
The woman said, resentment lacing her voice, "Linda is smart. She knew I was tracking my husband, so they never used his car for their meetings. They always used yours.
"She thought that would keep me from finding them. But she underestimated how far a woman will go for revenge."
My throat went dry. "So you've been following them?"
"Yes." She nodded firmly. "I've trailed them over a dozen times in three months. Every single time, they used your car.
"They went to U-pick farms on the outskirts of town, downtown movie theaters, and even..."
She stopped, as if unsure whether to go on.
"Even checked into a motel together," she said, her voice low and heavy.
I squeezed my eyes shut for a second. "Why are you telling me this?"
She said, her voice icy and unwavering, "Because I want revenge. I divorced my husband and split our assets down the middle. But that's not enough. I want her to face public humiliation."
She looked at me steadily. "And you? You are the perfect person to make that happen."
I sat there in silence for a few moments before asking, "What do you want me to do?"
She pushed her phone toward me. "It's simple. I'll give you all these photos and evidence. Do whatever you want with them. The only thing I ask is, when everything goes down, make sure I'm there."
"I want to watch her crash and burn in front of everyone with my own eyes."
I stared at the photos of Linda, grinning happily.
She was nothing like the perfect wife and mother she played at home.
"Is there more you know?" I asked.
"Plenty." She took a sip of water. "For one thing, she's using your car for Lyft rideshare."
My heart clenched. "How do you know that?"
She pulled up a screenshot on her phone. "Because I looked into it. Lyft account registered under her ID, with your license plate. She's taken over a hundred rides in three months.
"Dozens of dollars per ride. She's made nearly 3000 dollars off your car."
My fists clenched tight. "Anything else?"
"Absolutely." She pulled up more photos. "Look at this one. It's a repair shop. Your car was fixed here last month."
"It cost 250 dollars, charged to your insurance. But you know what?"
She leaned in, her eyes locked on mine. "That scratch happened when Linda was driving your car to meet up with my ex-husband.
"She was scared you'd find out, so she fixed it secretly and filed the claim under your name."
I took a deep breath to calm myself.
Every piece fitted together perfectly.
One by one, her lies and betrayals stacked up.
"Do you want all this evidence?" the woman asked.
I lifted my head and met her gaze. "Yes."
"Then we're allies." She held out her hand. "I'm Helen Grant."
I shook it. "Sophie Foster."
"Pleasure working with you," Helen said.
She sent me every piece of evidence: rideshare orders, repair shop receipts, hotel records of her ex-husband and Linda, and all the intimate photos.
"What's your next move?" she asked.
I thought for a moment before replying, "I need to check with my attorney friend to make sure this evidence holds up in court. Then..."
I paused, thinking it over.
"I'm going to make her admit everything herself," I said, my voice steady and determined.
Helen nodded. "Call me if you need me to help."
"Will do," I replied.
After we parted, I sat in my car and reviewed all the evidence one last time: dash cam footage, mileage logs, fuel receipts, insurance claims, rideshare records, and affair photos.
A complete, unbreakable chain of proof.
Linda thought she could take advantage of me, leech off my car, and get away with it because we were family.
But she had no idea I'd kept track of every single thing she'd taken.
And now, it was time to settle the score.
I started my car, ready to go home, when my phone buzzed again.
It was the family group chat.
Linda had sent a message. [Mom's birthday is the day after tomorrow. Everyone, come over for dinner. Sophie, get here early tomorrow to help set up.]
A smiley face emoji followed.
I stared at the screen, a cold, quiet smile forming on my lips.
A birthday party? Perfect. Starting from tomorrow, the whole family would learn exactly who Linda really was.