I Can Smell Every Lie, and My Husband Reeked of Betrayal Chapter 13

I Can Smell Every Lie, and My Husband Reeked of Betrayal Chapter 13

Mallory booked my consultation with Attorney Lena three days later. I drove to her law office.

you don’t have solid proof of infidelity, an uncontested divorce will get this over with fastest.”

She had short hair and gold-rimmed glasses, and spoke sharp and to-the-point.

“What if he won’t sign?”

“If he refuses to sign, we can take this to court. Either spouse can file for divorce, but the judge will

hold off on custody and child-support rulings until after the baby is born. Is the house jointly

owned?”

“Yeah, we bought it after we got married.”

“What about the baby?”

“I want full custody.”

“We can’t set formal custody until after the baby is born, but newborns usually end up with the

mother for primary care. Grab your state-issued ID and your marriage license.”

I left the law firm around four p.m. and drove home to grab those papers.

The second I unlocked the front door, thick gardenia washed over me.

That cursed smell again.

I looked down by the shoe cabinet. A pair of women’s slippers with little pink bows.

Not mine. I only wore plain grey cotton slippers.

Two mugs sat on the coffee table.

Finn’s blue mug, and my white porcelain cup.

A faint lipstick ring marked its rim—not my shade.

I walked to the bedroom.

Someone remade the bed, but the folds were all wrong. I always make the bed starting on the right

side. These wrinkles started on the left.

A long strand of hair lay on my pillow. My hair is short.

The wardrobe door stood ajar. My winter coat, which hung furthest right, had been shoved toward the middle. Two unfamiliar clothes hung there instead a floral-print dress and an off-white

cardigan.

Standing in front of the closet, I caught the metallic smell of dried blood hanging heavy in the air- way stronger than what I’d picked up during coffee with Chloe.

She’d moved into my house while I was gone.

Slept in my bed. Drank out of my cup. Hung her clothes inside my closet.

I pulled out my phone and took clear photos of everything. Slippers, lipstick-stained mug,

messed-up sheets, that stray hair, her clothes.

I took her two clothes out of the closet, folded them neatly, and stuffed them in a paper bag along

with the pink slippers. Then I set the bag by the front door.

I gathered my ID and marriage license, then called Finn.

He picked up fast. “Shannon? You’re home?”

“Yeah. Who’s been staying in this house while I was gone?”

There was a short pause on his end.

“What are you talking about?”

“There are slippers that aren’t mine by the door. Strange clothes in my closet. Long hair on my pillow. Don’t bother making excuses. The whole place reeks of gardenia scent.”

Pause.

A long heavy pause.

Then his voice came, urgent.

“Shannon, listen. Wren had a high fever, and Chloe’s apartment lost water. She couldn’t cool the

kid down, so I let her come use our bathroom.”

“How many nights did she stay?”

“Just… two nights.”

“Two nights. You let her live in my house for two whole nights.”

“Shannon-”

“Her clothes were hanging inside my closet.”

“Wren threw up. She needed clean clothes to change into-”

“I want a divorce.”

His breathing turned ragged.

“What did you just say?”

“I met with a lawyer. We can file litigation paperwork next week.”

“Shannon, are you out of your mind? All because she stayed two nights?”

“It’s not just those two nights. It’s how easily you let her move in. It’s how you didn’t see anything

with hanging her clothes in my closet. It’s everything starting from your birthday night.”

wrong

I paused.

The baby kicked inside me.

“Your scent started changing that night.”

“Can you stop going on and on about scents!”

“The rose scent is almost gone, Finn. The lily scent is fading too. All I get now is acrid vinegar smell and putrid rotting-flesh stench.”

“You keep saying nothing happened between Chloe and you. But your scent tells the truth way better than your words.”

Heavy gasping crackled over the phone. A long silence followed, then his voice came.

“Shannon, you’re talking nonsense. Maybe you’ve got prenatal depression. Calm down. Let’s talk

face to face.”

“No need. My lawyer will send you the divorce draft.”

I hung up.

I rinsed my white porcelain mug, dried it, and put it in my bag.

On my way out I glanced back. Finn’s blue mug sat all alone on the coffee table.