Chapter 6 - The Setup
Sunday evening arrived with a quiet, oppressive stillness.
I spent the weekend keeping up appearances. When Parker called on Saturday evening to ask how my weekend at the country house had gone, I kept my voice light, breezy, and completely neutral. I told him that Alana and Ellie had decided to cut their trip short and head back to Columbus early, and that Dustin and I had enjoyed a quiet time relaxing.
Parker bought the lie hook, line, and sinker. Relieved that he wouldn't have to mediate an open war between his wife and his family just yet, he happily announced that his business trip was wrapping up a day early, and that he would be flying back home by Sunday night.
"I'll see you tomorrow evening, babe," Parker had said smoothly over the phone. "We can grab dinner, catch up, and take care of that little paperwork item for the property tax optimization. Sound good?"
"Sounds wonderful, Parker," I had replied, keeping my tone sweet and devoid of any suspicion. "Drive safe."
By Monday afternoon, Victoria had delivered the executed, legally airtight post-nuptial asset disclaimer and liability waiver directly to my encrypted email. It was an absolute masterpiece of legal engineering. Formatted down to the exact font, margin spacing, and signature lines of Parker’s fraudulent quitclaim deed, it looked entirely routine at a glance, but its binding legal clauses effectively locked Parker out of any future claim to my grandfather’s estate while trapping him in a web of financial liability if he attempted to enforce the fraudulent transfer.
I printed two copies out on crisp linen paper, placing the decoy document right on top, with the real trap neatly embedded beneath the signature page.
At exactly 6:30 PM on Monday, the front door unlocked, and Parker walked into our city home.
He looked tired, wearing a sharp business suit with his tie loosened around his collar. He tossed his briefcase onto the entryway table, strode into the kitchen where I was standing by the stove stirring a pot of pasta, and leaned down to press a quick, perfunctory kiss to my cheek.
"Hey, honey. I’m exhausted," Parker sighed, loosening his tie further. "Flights were delayed out of Chicago. Did you have a good weekend?"
"It was very... educational, Parker," I said smoothly, turning around to face him with a pleasant smile. "How was your trip?"
"Productive," Parker replied quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes darted toward the kitchen island where I had casually placed a manila folder containing the documents. "So... did you get a chance to look over those property tax papers I left out last week?"
My heart beat with a steady, rhythmic calm. The trap was set. The bait was in place.
"As a matter of fact, I did," I said, leaning against the counter and folding my arms. "I read through every single line, Parker. And you know what? I think you’re right. We should definitely get this sorted out tonight."
Parker’s eyes lit up with a flash of triumph that he tried desperately to disguise as relief. A broad, eager smile spread across his face.
"Really? That’s great, Clarissa! I knew you’d see reason. It just makes total financial sense for tax purposes," Parker said quickly, practically lunging for the manila folder on the island.
He opened the folder, flipping straight to the signature page of the document I had prepared. He didn't read a single line of the text above it—classic arrogance, assuming that I would simply comply without scrutinizing his financial schemes.
"Right here on the dotted line?" Parker asked, grabbing a sleek silver fountain pen from his breast pocket.
"Right there," I replied softly, watching him with an eagle-eyed gaze.
Parker scrawled his signature across the line with swift, confident strokes, pressing down hard so the ink bled cleanly onto the paper. He closed the folder with a satisfying snap and handed it back to me with a beaming smile.
"There. All done. No fuss, no drama," Parker said, leaning in to wrap his arms around my waist. "See? Everything always works out when we're on the same page."
I didn't hug him back. Instead, I calmly picked up the folder, opened it, and pulled out the signed document. I looked down at his signature, then looked up straight into his eyes.
"Yes, Parker," I said, my voice dropping an octave into a tone so cold and sharp that it made him physically flinch. "Everything is finally on the same page. And tomorrow morning, Victoria Vance is going to love filing this into the public record."
Parker’s smile vanished instantly, replaced by a look of sudden, profound confusion.
May you like
"What... what are you talking about?" Parker stammered, stepping back.
Before he could answer, the sharp, authoritative rapping of heavy knuckles echoed against our front door.
