Chapter 4 - The Caught Monster
The sight inside the master bathroom was burned into my memory with terrifying, crystal-clear sharpness.
Our oversized marble soaking tub—the one Grant and I had picked out during our third anniversary remodel—was filled with steaming water and white foam.
Sitting in the tub together, their shoulders touching, their hands intertwined beneath the bubbles, were Grant and Chloe.
Chloe was holding a glass of my vintage champagne. Grant had his arm draped casually around her shoulders, his wedding ring resting on the cold marble edge of the tub where he had taken it off.
When the bathroom door swung open, Grant turned his head with a lazy smile, expecting to see the cat.
Instead, his eyes met mine.
Then his eyes drifted behind me—to my father’s thunderous face, to Eleanor’s horrified, agape mouth, to his own father’s pale, trembling visage, and to his mother, who let out a sharp, choked scream.
"Oh my God!" Evelyn shrieked, covering her eyes.
"M-Meredith?" Grant gasped. The color drained from his face so fast he looked instantly sick. He scrambled backward in the tub, splashing soapy water over the white marble floor, his hands desperately trying to cover himself.
Chloe let out a sharp scream, dropping her champagne glass onto the bathmat where it shattered into small, glittering shards. "Meredith! Dad! Eleanor!"
"Get out," my father said.
His voice wasn't loud. It was a low, terrifying rumble that vibrated through the tiled room. Arthur Carter stepped forward, his eyes locked onto Grant like a hammer preparing to fall. "Get out of that tub right now, Grant, before I drag you out myself."
"Mere, wait! Please! It’s not what it looks like!" Grant stammered, his body shaking violently as he grabbed a towel and tried to wrap it around his waist while scrambling out of the water. "I swear, we were just... Chloe had a pipe burst at her apartment! She was cold! We were just drinking—"
"Shut your mouth," Richard Hails commanded his own son, his voice shaking with profound, agonizing humiliation. Richard looked at Grant with such disgust that Grant flinched as if struck. "You pathetic, shameless coward."
Eleanor stared at her daughter, her face red with rage and embarrassment. "Chloe! How could you?! With your sister’s husband?! In her own house?!"
Chloe was sobbing now, pulling a robe around her wet body, backing up into the shower glass. "Mom, please! Grant said they were getting a divorce anyway! He said Meredith didn't love him anymore!"
I didn't say a single word to either of them.
I walked over to the cold marble edge of the tub. I looked down at Grant’s platinum wedding band lying beside a bottle of lavender bath soap.
I picked up the ring between two fingers, walked over to the toilet, dropped it into the water, and flushed it down.
Then I turned to Grant, who was standing on the wet bathmat, shivering, tears streaming down his face as he reached for my hand.
"Meredith, please," Grant begged, dropping to his knees on the cold tile floor, grabbing the hem of my coat. "Please don't do this! I love you! It was a mistake! A stupid, drunk mistake! I’ll do anything! I’ll go to therapy, I’ll sign over whatever you want! Please don't leave me!"
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I looked down at the man I had spent twelve years loving, the man whose pride I had cared about more than my own success less than twelve hours ago.
"The investment is over, Grant," I said quietly, my voice ringing clear against the marble walls. "Pack your bags. You have thirty minutes to clear your things out of my house."
