Phoenix Heat, A Wife's Cold Vengeance

Juliette POV

Kendrick continued his charade. He sat across from me, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked earnest, concerned.

"We have to prioritize," he said. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if sharing a profound secret. "Our little one, our future. We need to build a solid foundation. That means cutting back everywhere we can, even on small luxuries like a little fan."

I just nodded. My throat felt tight. The heat was relentless. It seemed to magnify every sound, every movement.

He stood up and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of water from the tap. He drank it slowly, deliberately, as if savoring every drop.

He did not offer me any.

"You've been so good, though," he said, turning back to me. A slight smile touched his lips. It did not reach his eyes. "So incredibly frugal. I noticed you didn't even buy that expensive sparkling water you like. That's the spirit, Juliette. That's how we'll get through this."

I remained silent. My head throbbed. I felt a dull ache in my lower back. The smell of my own sweat was cloying.

His words were a cruel mockery. He praised my forced deprivation, unaware that I knew the truth behind his "sacrifices."

He adjusted his old, faded shirt, an actor playing a part.

He walked over to me, pulled the crumpled twenty-dollar bill from my hand, and smoothed it out. He then folded it neatly and placed it back in my palm.

"This is for you," he said. His tone was condescending, like a parent giving a child an allowance. "For something small, a cold drink if you absolutely need it. But try to make it last, okay? Every penny counts."

I closed my fingers around the bill. Its insignificance was a bitter joke.

I gazed at him. His eyes held a self-satisfied gleam. He truly believed his performance. He thought I was blind, ignorant, easily manipulated.

I felt a cold resolve settle in my gut, hardening with each passing minute. The heat was oppressive, but inside me, something was chilling.

He had no idea I was now watching his every move, cataloging every lie—and I had already found the weapon that would destroy him.

The forum post was only the beginning. I needed more.

And I knew exactly where to look next. Kandy Richards had an Instagram account—public, foolishly public—and I had all night to scroll through every post she'd ever made.