Page 103 of The Bad Husband

I actually didn’t want to go on this trip with her, but I wanted her out of the house, and I knew she wouldn’t leave if I hadn’t, so there was that.

I still don’t know whether it’s a good idea to have Henrietta involved in my business to such a degree.

The thing is, she knows too much about my business, and now, it’s all about keeping my enemies closer and all that.

A year from now, she’ll be gone, and I’ll be free. She could still do some damage at some point, but maybe her motivation would be limping at that time.

She and I are very much the same in that regard.

We don’t forget easily.

It’s just that she is the villain in this story.

She should recognize that I did her a favor. Of course she wouldn’t. If she did, she’d admit guilt.

I take a sip and set my drink down.

“Maybe she got used to our ways. We’re not exactly the predictable type,” I murmur. “I thought I’d be back by Friday and you’d return next week. I didn’t expect you to come home tonight either.”

“Right.”

She looks down and pops a small bite of food into her mouth.

“So where were you exactly when the power outage happened?”

Normally, it wouldn’t be her business where I was, but that was my whole ploy before Lila showed up.

Instead of being confrontational, fueling Henrietta’s suspicions, I chose to act normally and offer clarifying information.

I thought I could alleviate her apprehension and avoid all these questions.

“I was on my way to my room.”

“And where was she?”

This reminds me of our old life when she’d go batshit crazy over some woman who followed me around.

I used to think she was funny.

Not anymore.

I know better now.

“What’s this? A trivia quiz?” I ask.

She smiles as I go on.

“She was in the house, sleeping. The woman just said it herself.”

She doesn’t seem to be satisfied with my answer. I remember when we used to have fun with this.

She’d ask me a ton of questions, and I’d plant the seeds of doubt in her mind.

We’d make it into a contest, although usually there weren’t any winners.

“What’s the problem?” I ask in a stern voice.

She chews on the last piece of her food and presses a napkin against her mouth.