Be My Witness

Lydia glanced up at Weston, her eyes wide and vulnerable in the cool night air of the balcony.

"When I enrolled Stella at her new school," she began, lowering her gaze to the floor, "the teachers handed me a stack of forms. They asked for her parents' information."

She paused, letting the silence stretch before continuing. "Her biological father doesn't deserve the title. I couldn't bear to write his name. At her last daycare, I left the father's section blank. Because of that, some cruel parent actually called my little girl a bastard. They said she was a child without a father."

Weston’s jaw tightened. A dark cloud settled over his features. "Which parent? Tell me their name. I can hold them legally accountable for saying that to a child."

"Forget it, Wes," Lydia sighed, playing the role of the exhausted, protective mother. "Stella is already transferred to a different school. I just don't want history repeating itself. You know she has severe autism. She's a target. So I was thinking..."

She trailed off, waiting for him to step up. When Weston remained silent, Lydia forced a fragile smile. "With you around, nobody would dare push us around. The law office is closed for the night. Could you come with me tomorrow to pick up Stella?"

She watched his face closely, searching for any sign of yielding. "It will be her first day there. All the other kids have their parents pick them up. Stella adores you. If she sees you waiting for her, she won't just throw random tantrums."

Weston zeroed in on the phrase. His tone shifted, growing sharp and serious. "Random tantrums? Stella has autism. If she is having a meltdown for no reason, it usually means she is physically unwell or overwhelmed. Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

Realizing she had misstepped, Lydia immediately pivoted. Her eyes welled with moisture. A single, perfectly timed tear tracked down her cheek—a calculated move to tug at his guilt. "Sutton walked out of her own home because of us. The tension in this house... I was afraid to bother you. I feel terrible."

Weston stared at her tears, his expression hardening into an icy mask. He resolutely dismissed her manufactured guilt without a second thought. "We did nothing wrong. You don't need to blame yourself."

***

The morning sun beat down on the pavement as Sutton walked out of her new house. She carried a sense of purpose she hadn't felt in years. Taking massive, concrete steps toward her fierce, independent life felt like breathing fresh air.

She paused by the front gate when she spotted her elderly neighbor, Nancy, walking with her middle-school-aged grandson. Nancy moved with a heavy limp. Her son and daughter-in-law worked out of town, leaving her to raise the boy alone. A recent knee injury made the daily trek to his after-school tutoring center agonizing.

"I just don't know how I'll manage the drop-offs," Nancy muttered, rubbing her joint. "And hiring a private home tutor costs a fortune."

Sutton's mind clicked into gear. At the standard market rate, a private tutoring session cost a hundred dollars. If she taught four classes a day, she would pull in four hundred dollars of pure profit. No commute, zero overhead.

"I can teach him," Sutton offered generously. "Once I get settled in, I'll tutor him right here. And I'll do it for half the market price."

Nancy’s face lit up with relief, and they shook on the arrangement. It was a solid, highly profitable step forward.

Later that afternoon, Sutton strolled through a high-end home goods store down the street. She needed premium bedding for her new master bedroom. She ran her fingers over a set of silk sheets, enjoying the quiet atmosphere, until a grating voice shattered the peace.

"Must be nice to have endless free time. Squandering your husband's money feels good, right?"

Sutton turned. Her former colleague, Sienna, stood in the aisle. Sienna’s face twisted in a mocking sneer, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm as she spoke loud enough for the nearby shoppers to hear.

"Still waiting for your hubby to beg you to come home?" Sienna laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "How sad. He's already brought Lydia into his house. You're just a discarded wife."

Sienna waited, a smug smirk playing on her lips, expecting Sutton to shrink under the public humiliation.

Instead, Sutton picked up a pair of expensive velvet pillows and let out a cold, chilling laugh.

She looked Sienna dead in the eye, her gaze unflinching. "Did you buy your law degree, Sienna, or did you actually pass the bar exam? Because right now, you are standing in a public space spouting baseless gossip. I can sue you for defamation."

Sienna recoiled, caught off guard. She wasn't used to this mild-mannered woman snapping back with such sharp teeth. Anger flushed her cheeks, and she doubled down.

"You can keep acting tough," Sienna fired back. "But Mr. Hayes stayed at Lydia's place last night! And today he brought her back to his house. The one who isn't loved is the real mistress. Just wait until you get kicked to the curb."

"I'm the one kicking him." Sutton’s eyes flashed with pure disdain. Her voice dropped, carrying a sudden, terrifying ferocity. "But thank you, Sienna. Since you've just publicly proved that Weston cheated on me with Lydia, I will absolutely need you to be my primary witness in divorce court."

In the past, Sutton would have swallowed the disrespect from the law firm staff to protect Weston's image. Now? She had zero reason to play nice.

Sienna stood frozen in the aisle. The blood drained from her face, leaving her a sickly shade of pale. Her mind spun, calculating the catastrophic fallout. If her idle, spiteful gossip inflated a massive divorce settlement against the powerful Hayes family, Weston would ruin her career. Lydia would skin her alive.

Terrified by the sudden threat of legal and social backlash, Sienna lost her voice. She opened her mouth, but only a pathetic squeak came out. She spun on her heel and retreated down the aisle in a blind panic.

Unfazed by the encounter, Sutton turned back to the counter, handed the clerk her card, and arranged for the high-end bedding to be delivered to her new address tomorrow.

***

The very next morning, Sutton unlocked the front door of Crestview Homes. The air inside her new house smelled clean of fresh paint, but she needed to retrieve some expensive decorations she had personally paid for before closing this chapter of her life.

She pushed the door open and stopped in the entryway. A pile of unfamiliar shoes cluttered the rug.

She walked into the living room and walked straight into a sickeningly cozy domestic scene.

Weston's overbearing mother, Martha, lounged comfortably on the large leather couch. Next to her sat Weston's deeply spoiled teenage niece, Chloe, flipping through channels on the TV. Stella was curled up in a tight ball at the far edge of the cushions, staring blankly at the wall.

By the large glass fish tank, Weston and Lydia stood intimately shoulder-to-shoulder. Lydia giggled softly, picking up a pinch of fish food from Weston’s open palm and sprinkling it over the water. They looked like a picture-perfect couple playing house.

"This is the goldfish I gave you all those years ago, isn't it?" Lydia said, pressing her face close to the glass. "I thought for sure it had died, but you've kept it alive so well, Wes."

Martha grinned at the pair. "Of course he did. Wes keeps everything you give him safe and sound."

Then, Martha's eyes flicked to the entryway. Her warm smile vanished instantly. She looked Sutton up and down, radiating pure contempt. "Oh, look. The hostess finally decides to show up. I honestly thought you had some backbone and crawled back to Cinderbay."

Hearing his mother’s voice, Weston turned. His eyes locked onto Sutton, and his tone was cold and dismissive. "Why did you come back now?"

Chloe snorted loudly from the couch. "She probably heard Aunt Lydie was here and came running back to desperately mark her territory like an animal. I thought she didn't care about Uncle Weston anymore."

The entire Hayes family, from the oldest down to the thirteen-year-old teenager, had always treated Sutton like a gold digger who got lucky.

Playing the role of the incredibly gracious, forgiving hostess, Lydia stepped forward. She carried a crystal plate loaded with wrapped sweets. "Sutton, we had no idea you were coming. The maid already cooked dishes suited to Mrs. Hayes's taste. But here, have some dessert. These premium chocolates are imported."

Sutton scanned the room, her eyes landing on the crystal plate. She recognized the ornate wrappers immediately.

She let out a dry, humorless smile. "Did you just take those chocolates straight from my private vanity?"

Lydia's fake smile faltered. She shifted awkwardly on her feet. "Oh... well, we have guests in the house. I thought I should serve them something nice."

Weston’s brow furrowed. He stepped away from the fish tank, his expression clouding over. "You've been gone for two days, and the moment you walk through the door, you start causing trouble with Lydie. It's just a box of chocolate. Is it really worth creating a scene over?"

Sutton absolutely refused to play along with this twisted charade. She didn't argue. She simply stepped forward, grabbed the ornate box off the side table, and swept every single chocolate directly into her tote bag.

"I bought these chocolates for someone else," Sutton stated bluntly, zipping her bag shut. "Not for you."

Chloe slammed the TV remote down on the coffee table. She had planned to stuff her pockets with those expensive candies before leaving. Her face flushed red with vicious anger.

"You greedy witch!" Chloe shouted. "You eat and wear every single thing Uncle Weston buys for you! How dare you act like you bought anything in this house with your own money!"

The room went dead silent.

Sutton ignored the bratty teenager. She turned her head and fixed a sharp, freezing glare directly onto Weston. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Her voice sliced through the silence like a razor. "Is that right, Weston? Am I living off you?"

Weston tensed. The muscles in his jaw locked.

Sutton took a slow, deliberate step toward him, challenging him in front of his entire family. "Tell them. Tell me. Is everything I eat and wear truly bought by your money? Have I been depending on you this entire time?"

A profound, deeply unsettling sensation washed over Weston's chest. He stared into Sutton's eyes and saw nothing but cold, unyielding detachment. The raw realization of permanently losing her flared in his gut.

He didn't know how to handle the terrifying ferocity standing in front of him. He clenched his fists tightly at his sides, aggressively suppressing his rapidly rising, panicked frustration.

Unable to form a coherent defense, he snapped at her.

"Sutton, do you really have to talk to my family like this?"