Page 166 of What Comes Around

Then I walked in on her with her yoga instructor, and our marriage was effectively over. We continued living together, but I never touched her again.

Apple became bolder with her affairs. She stayed discreet in public, wanting to maintain the illusion of a happy marriage, but at home and in front of our son she didn’t hold back. She tried to make me jealous, but I didn’t care.

Eventually I returned to discreet one‑night stands when I needed an outlet.

Another reason I stayed with Apple for so many years was guilt. She was vocal about her childhood trauma, and it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together.

Everyone remembers where they were when something terrible happens at the same time.

I had been in that Walmart the day she was taken and abused as a child. I was there. Logically I knew it wasn’t my fault, but I had noticed another little girl alone and kept an eye on her. Meanwhile Apple had been kidnapped from the same store.

At some point I decided that once Aron went to college, I would file for divorce. Enough was enough.

But that time never came.

Aron was arrogant, entitled, and refused to listen. Apple bought him a powerful car at sixteen. There were multiple run‑ins with the police for speeding. His license was suspended. I put my foot down, took his keys, sent him to therapy, but nothing helped.

Apple gave him her own car keys.

At seventeen he caused a crash while speeding. Three other teenagers in the car died. His blood test showed sedatives and other prescription drugs. Some he had stolen from Apple, some from who knows where.

He was released while awaiting trial, facing a long sentence, and he spiraled even further.

A month before the trial, he took Apple’s car again and crashed into a tree. He was drunk.

This time, he didn’t survive.

I don’t know if it was an accident or intentional. I was heartbroken. Shattered.

The parents of the three teens sued us, blaming us for giving him access to a car despite his history.

A few months later I became violently ill. Stomach pain, vomiting. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Despite their efforts, I kept getting worse. When I was on the verge of dying, Apple came to see me. She told me how she had really gotten pregnant. She had taken the condom from the trash and used a syringe to inseminate herself. She admitted she knew I wanted a divorce, that I had spoken to a lawyer. And because of the prenup, she decided to kill me with antifreeze. Like he did with Titan.

With my last breaths, I promised that if I ever had the chance, I would make her pay.

This life, everything was different.

When Ashley started working for me and I saw her almost every day, I kept my distance at first.

I watched her. In meetings. In passing. In the way she interacted with others. The way she carried herself. The way she spoke.

They were sisters after all, born from the same family. I couldn’t shake the suspicion that maybe Ashley hid the same rotten core Apple had. That she was simply better at masking it.

There was something else too. A feeling I couldn’t name. As if she had a hidden motive. I didn’t know what it was, but I wasn’t naïve enough to ignore the possibility.

So I had my most trusted hacker dig into her devices. Her phone. Her laptop. Everything he could find about her online or off.

What he uncovered surprised me.

Ashley was wealthy. A millionaire in her own right. Nothing in her behavior hinted at it. She lived simply, worked hard, never flaunted anything. There was no arrogance, no need to show off.

She was nothing like Apple.

And she hated Apple just as much as I did.

Maybe even more.

There were folders upon folders of evidence on her devices. Apple’s lies. Apple’s schemes. Apple’s crimes. Ashley had collected it all, and it was clear she hadn’t obtained the information legally. She had been pulling strings behind the scenes for years. Every time Apple had a setback, every time something in her life went wrong, Ashley had been the one tugging the thread.