The transition on her face was instantaneous—from lust to a hollow, gaping horror. She gasped, a wet, choking sound, and scrambled backward, splashing water over the rim of the tub. Jackson spun around, his eyes widening until they looked like they might burst.

“Josephine,” he croaked. He said my name as if it were a magic spell that could rewind time.

In that split second, something inside me snapped. But it wasn’t a break; it was a realignment. The submissive, trusting wife evaporated. In her place stood a woman made of cold steel and calculation.

“Stay exactly where you are,” I commanded. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears—low, flat, and vibrating with absolute authority.

Jackson tried to stand, water cascading off his chest. “Jo, wait. I can explain—”

“I said do not move.”

I stepped back out of the bathroom, grabbing the brass handle of the heavy oak door. I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t blink. I slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the frame.

Then, I turned the key.