The purchases were tied to the premium loyalty account of Eleanor Mercer.
Garrett’s mother.
Colleen went quiet. “She knows.”
Meline stared at the screen.
Eleanor had hugged her at Thanksgiving. Eleanor had given her a fertility prayer candle at Christmas. Eleanor had sat at the table and watched her cry over failed cycles.
All while buying nursery furniture for Garrett’s mistress.
Meline didn’t throw anything. Didn’t scream. Didn’t collapse.
She walked to the printer.
Every bank statement. Every lease. Every screenshot. Every receipt. Every stolen charge. Every medical file image. She printed everything and slid every page into a plastic sleeve.
Then she put them in a thick navy binder.
When she snapped the rings shut, the sound was hard and final.
Colleen looked at it and asked, “When do we end him?”
Meline checked the calendar.
Late June.
Garrett had invited the entire neighborhood over for his annual Fourth of July barbecue. He planned to stand in the yard and play proud husband, proud father, proud man.
Meline rested her hand on the binder.
“Let him have his party,” she said. “I’ll bring the fireworks.”
Part 3: The Yard
The yard smelled like charcoal, sunscreen, and lies.
It was the Fourth of July. Clear sky. Grill running hot. Music playing. Kids in the sprinkler. Almost fifty people in the backyard pretending they were inside a normal family’s happy summer afternoon.
Garrett stood at the grill in a red apron that said Grill Master, holding a spatula like a crown.
He was in his element.
“Finally going to be a dad,” he bragged to the men around him. “Nothing beats family.”
They laughed. Raised beers. Cheered him like he’d earned anything.
Eleanor sat under the patio umbrella in a floral dress, sipping iced tea, watching her son with the smile of a woman who thought she would die before consequence ever reached her.
Meline sat at the picnic table in a navy sundress. Calm. Controlled. The navy tote bag rested beside her leg. The binder was inside.
Colleen sat across from her with a bottle of water.
“Watch the side gate,” Colleen said under her breath.
Meline checked the time.
2:15.
Two days earlier, using a burner app that cloned Garrett’s number, Meline had texted Tanya.
I need you. I’m having a panic attack. I can’t do this anymore with my crazy sister. Come to the house at 2:15 on the 4th. I’m telling everyone the truth. I’m choosing you and our son. — Garrett
Reckless lie. Perfect bait.
At 2:17, Garrett’s real phone started vibrating on the prep table.
He looked down.
All the color left his face at once.
His beer slipped out of his hand and shattered on the patio stone.
“Garrett?” one of the neighbors said. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer. He was staring at his phone like it had started speaking.
Then the side gate clicked open.
The yard quieted in pieces.
Tanya walked in.
Eight months pregnant. Pale blue dress. Big belly. Small pale-blue gift bag hanging from one hand like she thought this was still a beginning.
She stepped into the yard and froze.
This was not a private confession. This was not a man leaving his difficult wife. This was a party. A crowd. A grill. A family. A wife.
Her eyes found Meline at the table.
Then they dropped to the tote bag.
Then back to Garrett.
And Meline watched the trap close.
Part 4: The Fire
The music kept playing for one more second.
Then Tanya screamed over it.
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