From then on, Emily’s life became a living nightmare. She became an unpaid maid in Susan’s apartment. She cleaned, cooked, washed, ironed, and still went to work every day. Due to the financial strain, she started taking on tutoring gigs. Of course, this didn’t sit well with Susan, as Emily spent less time on housework. But James was thrilled since Emily was the only one bringing in money. She paid for utilities, groceries, and necessary medications for both Susan and James.
Also living in the crowded apartment was James’s older brother, Michael. He contributed absolutely nothing financially; all his earnings went to his own needs. When Emily once hinted that Michael should chip in for groceries or utilities, she was quickly put in her place and told not to meddle. It wasn’t her business, apparently.
Life in Susan’s apartment grew unbearable by the day. But Emily’s conscience wouldn’t let her abandon everything, so she found one escape—staying late at work.
Back in the present, Emily gripped the phone, James’s voice pulling her out of the memory.
“Look,” James said in a commanding tone, “stop by the store and buy some red caviar.”
“But I don’t have money,” Emily tried to object, exhaustion washing over her. “Payday’s a week away.”
“Of course! Who cares what I want?” James sounded deeply offended. “If I could walk, I wouldn’t be begging you for pocket change.”
“Pocket change?” Emily’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Since when is red caviar pocket change? And the price?”
“Don’t nitpick my words,” James waved her off verbally. “If you don’t want to make your husband happy, just say so.” He hung up without waiting for a response.
Emily sighed heavily, staring at the disconnected phone. She’d have to cut corners somewhere to buy the caviar, or she’d face endless nagging—not just from James but from Susan too. She got up from the desk, grabbed her purse, and headed out.
Stepping outside, Emily smiled for the first time that day. She loved summer for its colors and warmth. She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs.
Turning toward the street, she froze. She saw a man standing there, watching her. It was the man who had turned her life into hell. Emily glared at him with disdain. God, how she hated this person who had ruined her life. Her surroundings were a living hell because of the accident involving him. Sometimes, she thought about walking away, letting them say whatever they wanted, but her conscience wouldn’t allow her to abandon her disabled husband. She’d never forgive herself.
“What do you want?” she asked hostilely, clutching her purse strap.
“I want to talk,” the stranger said.
“You’ve probably guessed who I am. I’ll remember you for the rest of my life, and we have nothing to discuss,” she spoke firmly. The last thing she wanted was to talk to this man. Emily turned to walk away, but he stepped in front of her.
“Emily, please listen,” he pleaded, his eyes intense. “It’s important to me.”
“I think it’s important for you too.”
“Really?” Emily raised an eyebrow skeptically. “How is your information important to me? I’d say I need your help more than your info.”
The man looked embarrassed, shifting his weight. “By the way, I’m Ethan.”
“What help could I possibly owe you?” Emily asked, her voice rising with incredulity. The audacity of this man was breathtaking. “It’s been over six months. You’d better talk to my husband if you want to discuss the accident.”
“He’s the last person I should talk to,” Ethan said, shaking his head with a grim expression. “Can you give me ten, maybe fifteen minutes? Please.”
“I really need to get home,” Emily said doubtfully, glancing at her watch. Every minute she was late was another round of ammunition for James and Susan to use against her.
“Please, it’s critical,” he begged, his eyes filled with a desperation that gave Emily pause.
“Fine,” she said with some hesitation, mentally scolding herself for being too soft. What did this man want from her? “Let’s sit on the bench near the school.”
Without waiting for a reply, Emily walked stiffly toward the benches shaded by large, ancient oaks. She sat down, placing her purse beside her like a barrier between them. “I’m listening,” she said, leaning back and fixing him with a guarded look.
“As you’ve guessed, I’m the other driver in the accident that injured your husband,” Ethan began, staring into the distance as if watching the crash replay in his mind. “He got off lightly compared to me.”
“Lightly?” Emily was outraged, her defensive instincts kicking in. “James has been in a wheelchair for six months. You’re standing here walking just fine, not even a limp.”
“I’ve got plenty of other issues,” Ethan chuckled humorlessly, tapping his chest. “But I’m not here to talk about my medical chart.”
“Then why are you here?” Emily asked, tiring of the riddles.
“After I finally came to in the hospital, I got some bad news,” Ethan sighed, the memory clearly painful. “They declared me at fault.”
“And that’s bad news for you because it’s true,” Emily retorted.
“I know I’m not guilty,” Ethan said firmly, meeting her gaze. “That day, there was a bad snowstorm. I was driving at twenty-five miles per hour. At that speed, I couldn’t have caused that much catastrophic damage. Neither could your husband, if he had been driving carefully.”
“I don’t get it,” Emily frowned, confusion clouding her anger. “What’s James got to do with the physics of it?”
“Your husband claims he was driving at the same speed, twenty-five. Got it?” Ethan asked, leaning in slightly. “If we were both crawling along at twenty-five miles per hour, the impact wouldn’t have shattered everything the way it did.”
“God!” Emily exhaled sharply. She knew James loved speeding; it was a vice he refused to give up. He’d been fined multiple times for it, and if not for his close friend, Steve—a traffic cop who frequently made tickets disappear—there would have been many more. Suddenly, a memory clicked into place: Steve was the officer who had responded to the accident. He wrote the official report.
“Are you saying James was driving much faster than stated in the report?”
“Yes,” Ethan nodded gravely. “I’ll tell you more—your husband ran a red light.”
“I don’t believe you,” Emily whispered, stunned. “How’s that possible? Despite his love for speed, James was a careful driver. He’d never run a red light sober.”
“That’s the thing—he wasn’t sober,” Ethan said quietly.
“But the report said otherwise,” Emily argued, though her conviction was wavering.
“Emily, you know having a buddy in the traffic police can turn the world upside down,” Ethan said, frustration creeping into his voice. “Your husband’s friend tried to pin the intoxication on me. He would’ve succeeded, too, if my sister, Karen—she’s a lawyer—hadn’t arrived at the scene almost at the same time as the cop. She oversaw everything and made sure they couldn’t falsify my blood test.”
Emily felt overwhelmed, the ground shifting beneath her feet. “What do you want from me?”
“My dashcam,” Ethan said. “It recorded the entire accident, but it’s missing.”
He looked at her with pleading eyes. She was his only hope to avoid a real prison sentence and hefty fines for a crime he didn’t commit. “Could you look for it at your place? It’s the only proof of my innocence.”
“You think my husband would keep evidence against himself?” Emily asked reasonably. “If it’s as you say, I doubt James would keep proof of his guilt lying around.”
“I know,” Ethan admitted. “But what if he kept the dashcam? You know how guys are with gadgets. Or maybe he just saved the memory card? People make mistakes.”
“Ethan, I’d love to help,” Emily said, looking at him with pity. Suddenly, she realized this could be her way out—the truth she desperately needed. “But we’re not at our place now; we’re living at my mother-in-law’s.”
“And I have no idea where to look for a dashcam or a memory card in her apartment. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack.”
“Emily, please try,” Ethan pleaded. “Just keep your eyes open.”
“Okay,” she promised, rising from the bench. “I’ll call you.” They exchanged numbers quickly, and Emily hurried away.
As she made her way home, a glimmer of hope sparked in her chest. She vowed that if there was evidence of James’s guilt, she’d find it. Maybe he’d face legal consequences, but honestly, she didn’t care anymore. The revelation that he might have been drunk and reckless, causing his own misery while blaming her, was the final straw. She realized she no longer loved him. She would leave him right now if not for the need to find that dashcam. Well, she could endure a couple more weeks of hell for the sake of the truth.
Emily entered the apartment in high spirits, fueled by her secret mission. Honestly, she should’ve told James and his mother to go to hell long ago. Why had she endured their abuse for so long?