Chapter 2 - The First FractureVictor lowered the phone, his drunken confusion hardening into irritation. "What is your problem? It was a joke. You have zero sense of humor tonight."
"A joke," Jessica repeated, walking slowly toward him. Every step she took was measured, deliberate. "You were broadcasting to your coworkers that I'm a doormat. You were discussing Madison."
The color instantly drained from Victor’s face. The bourbon-induced flush vanished, replaced by a pasty, sickly gray.
On the speakerphone, Craig's voice cut through the tense air, awkward and high-pitched. "Uh, Vic? Man, maybe we should hang up—"
Victor lunged forward, his thumb frantically hitting the end call button. The screen went black.
"What did you just say?" Victor demanded, his voice pitching upward as panic flared beneath his bravado. "What did you hear?"
"Every word," Jessica said, stopping just two feet away from him. She was shorter than him by half a foot, but right now, standing in her simple gray sweater and jeans, she looked like a firing squad. "You told them I'd cry. You told them I'd scream. You told them I'd forgive you and stay because I need you."
Victor swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. He tried to puff out his chest, falling back on his default setting: aggression. "You're eavesdropping now? Is that what we're doing? You’re spying on my private conversations?"
"It was on speakerphone, Victor. You were shouting it like a football score." Jessica’s gaze locked onto his shifting eyes. "Who is Madison?"
Victor scoffed, turning away and running a hand through his thinning brown hair. "Nobody. A client. A girl from marketing. You're blowing this way out of proportion. You always do this—you twist things—"
"Don't gaslight me," Jessica hissed, her voice snapping like a whip. "Not tonight. Not anymore. How long?"
Victor froze. His shoulders slumped, the weight of the caught liar finally pressing down on him. But instead of remorse, a flash of ugly resentment crossed his features.
"Six months," Victor spat out, turning back to face her, deciding that if he was going down, he would drag her with him. "Six months, okay? Are you happy? She's fun, Jessica. She doesn't nag me about my drinking. She doesn't spend every weekend visiting a nursing home. She actually likes living life!"
The cruelty of the words hit Jessica square in the chest—not because they hurt, but because they exposed the utter rot of his character. He was weaponizing her mother’s illness against her.
"Get out," Jessica said softly.
Victor blinked. "What?"
"I said, get out," Jessica repeated, her eyes blazing. "Pack a bag. Call your precious Madison. But you are not sleeping under this roof tonight."
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Victor let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. "Are you out of your mind? This is my house. My name is on the mortgage!"
"And my name is on the foundation," Jessica replied, her voice dropping into a dangerous, icy register. "Go."
