The kitchen smelled of lavender cleaner as I polished the counters, the dishwasher’s soft hum filling the quiet. Cleaning wasn’t my thing, but it kept my hands busy. Then the doorbell rang. I opened it to find a well-dressed man with a charming smile, clutching a briefcase. “Hi! I’m looking for Mr. Brooks,” he said warmly. “You’re the cleaning lady, Anna, right? I’m Chris, his business partner.” Before I could speak, he added, “Mrs. Brooks showed me your photo. Said you’re great.”
My heart skipped. “Mrs. Brooks?” I asked, keeping my voice even. “Yeah,” Chris said, grinning. “She and John are such a perfect pair.” Mrs. Brooks? Who was he talking about? I decided to play along. “Come in,” I said, smiling. “Known the Brookses long?” I asked as he sat on the couch. “Oh, years,” he said. “They’re always so happy.” My pulse raced, but I stayed calm, offering water to slip away and think.
In the kitchen, I leaned against the sink, my mind reeling. Who was Mrs. Brooks? Back in the living room, Chris was on his phone. “Got a photo of them,” he said, handing it over. My stomach sank—it was my sister, Megan, with John. “She’s stunning, right?” Chris said. I nodded, my voice tight. “When was this taken?” I asked. “Last year, at a work gala,” he said. “John kept his private life hush until I met her. She said you were the cleaning lady.” My hands shook as I gave back the phone.
I forced a smile. “More photos?” I asked. Chris showed another, missing my shock. “You okay, Anna?” he asked. “Fine,” I said. “Coffee while you wait for Mr. Brooks?” He nodded, and I retreated to the kitchen, my thoughts a whirlwind. Megan as John’s wife? What was this? I brought the coffee, my heart pounding but my face steady. “Chris,” I said firmly, “we need to talk.” He looked puzzled. “About what?” I pointed to a framed photo on the shelf. “Check that out.”
Chris picked it up, his eyes narrowing. “That’s you,” he said. “And that’s John, my husband,” I said. “I’m Mrs. Brooks, not the cleaning lady.” His face paled. “But Megan said…” he stammered. “She’s my sister,” I said coldly. Chris set the photo down, stunned. “I didn’t know. They said she was his wife!” I let him fidget before asking, “Why are you here?” He sighed. “To buy John’s business share. But it’s in your name.” I raised an eyebrow. “And Megan blocked it?” He nodded. “I thought it was you.”
I laughed, hiding my anger. “It wasn’t. What’s your offer?” Chris named a huge figure, and I stayed composed. “Send the papers tomorrow,” I said. He agreed, relieved. The next night, John stormed in, furious. “You sold my share?” he shouted, tossing his bag. I sat calmly, closing my book. “Hi, John. Tough day?” He glared. “You had no right!” I stood, meeting his gaze. “The share was mine. And I know about Megan.” He froze. “I can explain—” I stopped him. “I’m filing for divorce. My lawyer’s ready.”
John sank into a chair. “You’re ruining me!” I shook my head. “You did that yourself.” Two weeks later, I signed divorce papers, feeling free. The settlement was generous, with compensation for Megan’s fraud. I cut ties with both, and their lies collapsed. John lost his business, and Megan lost him. The betrayal stung, but it showed me my strength. I swapped John’s photo for a vase of roses, smiling. My new story was just beginning.
