The Secret Wife Makes A Spectacular Comeback

The high from blocking the Kirby family faded quickly. By the time the sun set over the Silver Lake hills, Carma felt like a wrung-out dishrag. She sat on the couch, staring at a blank spot on the wall, while Emily heated up leftover pizza.

Her phone buzzed. A local number she didn't recognize.

She answered it, expecting a telemarketer. "Hello?"

Earlier that evening, Marcus had called Kendall with a strange piece of news: the anonymous number that had canceled the Xen deal traced back to a burner phone that had been in the same cell tower as the Kirby mansion.

Marcus didn't know who—but someone inside Kendall's own house had killed the deal. Kendall immediately thought of Carma. She had access, she had motive, and she had just torn up his settlement papers. He didn't know how she had done it, but he was certain she was behind it.

"Carma." Kendall's voice was a low growl. "You blocked me."

"I blocked your number," Carma said, her body tensing. "I didn't agree to never speak to you again."

"Listen to me—” He sounded furious. “You did something to the Xen deal. You got wind of it and you poisoned it, didn't you? That was a low blow, Carma."

Carma's blood ran cold. He had no idea she was Xen. He just thought she had somehow gotten wind of the deal and used her connections to ruin it out of spite. The thought was both terrifying and darkly satisfying.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Kendall," she said, her voice a perfect mask of confusion. "Maybe your business partners just realized who they were dealing with."

"Carma, it's not what you think," Kendall said quickly, panic edging into his voice. "This is business. Don't make it personal."

"You made it personal on our anniversary," Carma said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Go back to your business, Kendall." She ended the call and blocked the new number. She dropped the phone like it was on fire.

Emily came out of the kitchen, holding a pizza box. She took one look at Carma's face and dropped the box on the table. "What? What did he do?"

"He's scrambling," Carma whispered. "The deal for my graphic novel fell through. He thinks I sabotaged him."

"Good," Emily said, her face flushing red. "Let him think that. Let him squirm. I'm going to drive to his house and cut the brakes on his Porsche."

"Don't." Carma wrapped her arms around herself. "I just want to sleep. I want to turn my brain off for a few hours."

Before Emily could respond, Carma's laptop chimed from the coffee table. A video call request from "Babette Meyer."

Carma hesitated. Babette was someone Carma had met at a charity gala two years ago—back when Carma was still trying to play the part of a supportive wife. Babette had never been told about the marriage; she had pieced it together from tabloid whispers and Kendall's evasive schedule.

Carma had never confirmed anything, but tonight she was too tired to keep up the lie.Carma needed a friendly face.

She hit accept.

Babette's face filled the screen. She was wearing a silk robe, her makeup flawless even at home. "Carma, honey! Emily just texted me. Oh my god, are you okay? I'm getting on the next flight out."

Carma forced a smile. "I'm surviving. I left him."

"You left him? Good!" Babette's voice was fierce, her eyes flashing with genuine-looking anger. "That son of a bitch. I'm going to ruin him. I'll call my father's lawyers. We will bury him, Carma. You won't have to lift a finger."

Carma hesitated. She knew Babette’s father was a New York power broker—but she also knew Babette hadn’t spoken to him in six months. “I appreciate it, Babette. Really. But I’ve already hired my own lawyer. Camille Vasquez.”

Babette’s eyes widened. “Camille? How can you—never mind. That’s even better. But my offer stands. If you need the big guns, you know where to find me.”

Emily, sitting out of the camera's view, nodded in approval at the screen.

"I'm sure," Carma said. "He wants a divorce. He made that very clear."

"I know, I know," Babette said, waving a manicured hand dismissively. "Let him want it. We're going to make him pay for it. He thinks he can just throw you away? No. You are brilliant and strong and you deserve the world. Don't you dare let him make you feel small. You hear me?"

"I hear you," Carma repeated, the words a balm on her raw nerves.

"Good," Babette said, her voice softening. "Listen, I have to run to an early meeting, but I'm booking a ticket for this afternoon. I'll be there by tonight. We'll order takeout, we'll drink wine, and we'll plot his demise. Don't sign anything. Don't talk to him. Just wait for me. Okay?"

A smart girl. A strong girl. The opposite of what Kendall had called her.

Carma felt a wave of relief. The one person she thought would understand, did. More than understood, she was ready for war. "Okay, Babette. I'll see you tonight."

"I'll be there, sweetie. Stay strong."

Carma closed the laptop lid. The silence in the room was heavy.

Emily stood up. "Okay, I like her. She's got the right attitude."

"She's the best," Carma muttered, the words feeling true. She felt a little less alone. The world was still closing in, but now she had an army at her back.

"I'm going to bed," Carma said, her voice flat. "I can't think anymore."

She walked into the guest room and shut the door. She leaned against it, her chest heaving. She needed an escape. Just for a few hours.

She opened her duffel bag—the same one she had arrived with, though she had added a few things over the years. Near the bottom, her fingers brushed against an orange prescription bottle.

The label was faded. Her doctor had given her Ambien a year ago, after a stretch of sleepless nights. She had taken it once without any problem. Tonight, she didn't care about risks.

She twisted the cap off and shook a single pill into her palm. She dry-swallowed it, then crawled under the covers.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the fog of sleep to pull her under. Instead, a strange heat began to spread through her veins. Her skin started to itch. Then burn.

She gasped, her eyes snapping open. The room was blurring. Her throat was swelling shut. She tried to call out for Emily, but no sound came.

This wasn't sleep. This was something else entirely.