Ficorpio
Chapter 1
Adrian Lancaster and I had been married for five years, and in all that time, I had never once set foot in his parents’ home.
He said his parents liked peace and quiet. He said distance kept relationships beautiful.
I believed him.
On the first of every month, three thousand dollars left my bank account right on schedule, the transfer note always the same: living expenses for Mom and Dad.
It was the only way I had ever been allowed to be a dutiful daughter-in-law.
This New Year’s Eve, I carried a holiday gift hamper to their door, hoping to surprise them.
But the moment I reached the landing, I heard Margaret Lancaster’s warm, doting voice drifting from inside.
“Sweetheart, eat more fish. Here, I picked out all the bones for you.”
I froze in the hallway.
The premium dried seafood and fine tea in my hands suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
Adrian was an only child.
So who was the “daughter-in-law” inside, the one being fussed over with such tenderness?
I lifted my hand and knocked.
The door opened to reveal a young woman.
She had an apron tied around her waist and the easy, settled air of the lady of the house.
A memory I had buried long ago broke loose without warning.
I had seen this woman in a photograph.
Last New Year, Adrian had sent me a family portrait. In it were his parents, him—and this woman.
He had told me she was a distant cousin. Claire Whitmore. Her parents lived out of town, he said, and since she was spending the holidays alone, his family had invited her over for dinner.
At the time, I had even reminded Adrian to look after her and give her a generous holiday cash gift.
“What are you doing at our door?” she demanded.
Her tone was sharp. Hostile.
I opened my mouth, but before I could speak, Margaret’s voice came from inside again.
“Sweetheart, come back in when you’re done. Dinner’s ready.”
“Coming, Mom,” the woman answered brightly, turning her head with a smile.
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
That word—sweetheart, daughter-in-law, whatever tenderness Margaret had packed into it—still rang in my ears.
She had not meant me.
Obviously, she had meant Claire.
Claire shifted sideways, blocking the doorway completely. She had no intention of letting me in.
I forced myself to steady my breathing. When I spoke, my voice came out dry and strained.
“I’m looking for Adrian Lancaster.”
Claire looked me up and down. For one brief second, panic flickered through her eyes.
“Oh. You’re the one Adrian— He isn’t home.”
Before I could answer, Margaret called again from inside, laughing now.
“Claire, who are you talking to? Hurry up, the food’s getting cold!”
“Coming, Mom!” Claire called back.
Then she lowered her voice, and warning edged every word.
“Adrian isn’t here. If you need something, come back another day.”
With that, she moved to shut the door.
I thrust out a hand and stopped it.
“I am Adrian Lancaster’s wife,” I said. “His legal wife.”
Chapter 2
At that exact moment, a small, muffled voice sounded from inside the apartment.
“Mommy…”
A little boy ran out, three or four years old, and wrapped his arms around Claire’s leg.
I looked down at him.
My heart seemed to stop.
That face looked almost exactly like Adrian’s.
The nose. The corners of the mouth. Most of all, those charming, almond-shaped eyes.
My gaze moved from the child’s face to Claire’s.
Her lips pressed into a hard line. There was panic in her eyes now, and a warning too.
“Whose child is this?” I asked.
She didn’t answer. She only shoved harder against the door.
I gripped the doorframe with all my strength, my knuckles turning white.
Five years.
For five years, Adrian and I had agreed that since we were both only children, he needed to spend more time with his parents.
I had even felt guilty for never visiting my in-laws.
After listening to my own parents urge me to stop over and make things right, I had rushed here, hoping to surprise him.
And this was what waited for me.
A “family” I knew nothing about.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
“Grace Bennett?”
Adrian’s voice cut through the hallway.
“What are you doing here?”
I turned my head slowly.
Adrian Lancaster stood at the bend in the stairwell, a grocery bag dangling from one hand. He must have just come back.
Shock was written all over his face—and beneath it, gone almost as soon as it appeared, a flash of panic.
He looked at me. Then at Claire Whitmore and the child inside the apartment.
The color drained from his face inch by inch.
I opened my mouth, but my throat had closed so tightly no sound came out.
All I could do was stare at him.
Stare at the man I had been married to for five years.
From inside the doorway, the little boy called out again, bright and clear.
“Daddy, you’re back!”
Those words went through me like nails, pinning me in place.
Claire scooped the child into her arms and backed farther into the apartment.
My hand shook where it gripped the doorframe.
“Adrian Lancaster,” I said, each word scraped raw. “What did that child just call you?”
His face was white as paper. His lips moved, but nothing came out.
Then his parents came out from inside, with several Lancaster relatives craning their necks behind them to see what was happening.
“Who is this?” Margaret Lancaster frowned as she looked me up and down, her eyes cold with disgust, as if I were something filthy tracked in from the street. “Adrian, a friend of yours? On New Year’s, of all days?”
“What’s all this shouting?” she snapped. “The whole family can hear you. If you have something to say, say it outside. Don’t make a scene in our home.”
I laughed.
Even to my own ears, the sound was ugly.
“You two don’t even recognize your own daughter-in-law anymore?” I asked. “All those holiday gifts, all that money I sent you—what, did it all go straight into the dog’s stomach?”
Margaret’s expression changed instantly. Her voice shot up, sharp and shrill.
Chapter 3
“What nonsense are you spouting? We don’t know you at all!”
Inside, the relatives who had gathered for the holiday started whispering. Their voices weren’t loud, but every word drilled into my ears with perfect clarity.
“Adrian’s wife? Hasn’t it always been Claire?”
“Exactly. Claire’s been wonderful. She’s been here all these years looking after his parents, and she gave the Lancasters a grandson.”
“Who is this woman? I’ve never seen her before.”
The murmurs were low, but painfully clear.
“You hear that?” Margaret raised her voice even higher. “The woman Adrian married is Claire. She was formally introduced as his wife. We all attended the wedding banquet!”
Formally introduced as his wife.
Those words came down on my skull like a hammer.
I looked at Adrian.
“Say something, Adrian.” My voice was calm—so calm it frightened me.
He lifted his head, but his eyes slid away from mine.
“Grace…” His voice was strained. “You should go. Whatever this is, we can talk about it later.”
“Later?” I stared at him. “Say it right now. In front of everyone. Who is your wife?”
The child, frightened by the scene, burst into tears and reached out his small hands.
“Daddy, hold me.”
Adrian looked at the boy. Then at me.
His lips trembled.
Then he spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for every person there to hear.
“Grace, we broke up a long time ago. Why are you still clinging to me?”
He took a breath.
“Today is my family’s reunion. Please leave.”
Margaret seized on it at once. “You heard him. Get out! If you don’t leave, I’m calling the police!”
Richard Lancaster had already started shoving me. “Bringing bad luck here on New Year’s? Get out!”
I didn’t move. I only looked at Adrian.
Five years.
More than eighteen hundred days and nights.
The house we had chosen together. The furniture we had picked out together. The cat we had raised together.
He had said he would save up and take me overseas one day.
He had said I was the only woman he would ever love.
All of it was a lie.
“Last Wednesday was your birthday,” I said. “I bought you a watch. You said you’d wear it for the rest of your life.”
“Last month, when your mother was sick, I transferred five thousand dollars to you and told you to buy her supplements.”
I looked past him at the listening relatives.
“Do you need me to keep going? The first of every month, an automatic transfer of three thousand. Memo line: living expenses for Mom and Dad.”
Claire’s face went pale too.
The relatives started whispering again.
Richard lunged forward, reaching for my phone.
I stepped back and slipped it into my pocket.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “I backed everything up. More than once.”
“Grace…” Adrian finally spoke again, his voice dry and hoarse. “Let’s talk privately.”