Chapter3

The doorbell rang again.

Stella trotted to the door—this time, practically sprinting.

"That's him!"

Liam’s voice drifted in from the porch, carrying that familiar post-work exhaustion I knew so well. “Stella, I’m home.”

Stella’s voice melted instantly. “Finally! What took you so long?”

“Had to pick someone up. Got delayed.”

Liam walked in, leading a little boy by the hand.

It was my three-year-old son, Leo.

The second they crossed the threshold, Leo yanked his hand free and launched himself straight at Stella.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

Those words drove into my ears like steel nails.

Stella dropped to a crouch, sweeping him into her arms and planting a loud kiss on his cheek.

“There's my boy. Did you miss me?”

Leo nodded vigorously, his little arms wrapped tight around her neck.

“So much! Leo missed Mommy so much!”

I stood frozen at the second-floor landing. The rag in my hand dripped dirty water. Plop. Plop. Right onto the hardwood floors I had just polished.

Just before Thanksgiving, Eleanor had said she was taking Leo to her place for a couple of days.

Turns out, she had brought him here. Straight into Stella's arms.

Eleanor followed Liam inside, the deep wrinkles on her face entirely smoothed out by a beaming smile.

“Stella dear, take it easy with him. Don't throw your back out.”

“He’s been bouncing off the walls since we left the house. Kept saying he was going to see you. I couldn't even keep him still in his car seat.”

Stella took Leo’s hand and led him over to the living room.

“Susan, David, Tyler, look who's here.”

My mother, Susan, practically sprang off the couch.

“Oh, Eleanor! You made it.”

Susan threw her arms wide for Leo.

“Leo sweetheart, look how tall you’ve gotten! Come here, give Grandma a big hug.”

But Leo shrank back, hiding behind Stella’s legs.

“No, I want Mommy.”

Eleanor chuckled, smoothing over the awkwardness.

“The boy only has eyes for Stella. Don’t take it to heart, Susan.”

Susan waved it off immediately.

“Of course not. It’s a blessing he’s so close to Stella. Stella has such a sweet soul—miles better than our Chloe ever was. Chloe’s temper… well, let’s not even go there.”

Liam shrugged off his coat, tossing it casually over the back of the sofa.

“Mom, how long have you guys been waiting?”

My father, David, hurried over to him.

“Just sat down a minute ago. Liam, you work yourself to the bone every day and still take care of this whole family. We really appreciate it.”

Liam walked over and sank into the couch beside Stella, his arm resting naturally around her waist.

“Not at all. We're family.”

Pulling Stella closer, he tipped his chin toward the second floor.

“Stella’s got her hands full with Leo all day. Didn’t want her burning out, so I hired a maid service. She should be wrapping up soon.”

Stella leaned in and pecked his cheek.

“Just about. She’s actually pretty fast.”

Eleanor nodded approvingly.

“Good. Everyone go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

The whole family drifted toward the formal dining room, a chorus of laughter and chatter. Eleanor carried Leo, with Susan and David trailing close behind. Tyler and Stella walked shoulder-to-shoulder, cracking up over some inside joke.

I stood motionless on the landing, watching it all unfold.

My husband. My son. My mother, my father, my brother. And the woman who had stolen my life.

All of them, right here under one roof.

Laughing and joking, like a picture-perfect family.

I was the exact definition of an outsider in my own home.

No. I was a ghost. A dead woman walking.

I tore my eyes away, gripped the heavy bucket of filthy mop water at my feet, and kicked open the safety gate at the top of the stairs.

Downstairs, everyone was pulling out their chairs, still buzzing with laughter.

I took the stairs one by one. The grimy water sloshed violently against the plastic rim with every heavy step.

Susan saw me first. The linen napkin slipped from her fingers, landing dead-center in her pristine plate. She slammed back against her dining chair as if shoved by an invisible hand.

David’s grip on his chair faltered, and he collapsed heavily into his seat.

Tyler raised a trembling finger, pointing it dead at me.

“Chloe... what the...”

Even Leo froze in Eleanor’s lap, his wide eyes locked on me in silent shock.

Liam looked up. The satisfied smirk was practically carved into his face, his jaw dropping open without a sound.

Stella, oblivious and facing away from me, was still adjusting the silverware.

“What's going on? Why is everyone just standing there?”

She spun around. Her eyes met mine, and she blinked in confusion.

“Chloe? Are you done already? The bathtub in the master bedroom isn't—”

I bypassed her entirely, marching straight to the center of the dining table.

SLAM!

I slammed the bucket down onto the crisp white tablecloth. Fetid, gray mop water geysered over the rim. It splattered across Stella's designer cashmere, sprayed Liam's tailored suit, and drenched the steaming, perfectly golden Thanksgiving turkey.

Stella shrieked, leaping backward.

I dusted off my raw hands, taking a slow, terrifying look at the circle of familiar faces.

“Dig in. Don't be shy.”

“After all, it’s not every day a dead woman crawls back from the grave just to do your Thanksgiving deep clean.”

The entire room fell into a suffocating silence. The only sound was the filthy water continuing to slosh inside the bucket.

Stella looked frantically from Liam to me, her voice trembling.

“Liam! What the hell is this maid talking about? Do something!”

Liam closed the distance in three strides, his fingers locking around my wrist like a vice.

“Chloe? How the hell are you here?”