“She’s just a coworker, stop acting crazy!” my cheating husband screamed as his mistress lunged forward, tearing his face open in public. I stood there watching his lies turn bloody, but the real shocker came an hour later at the precinct when the police exposed her dark, dangerous criminal past.

The drive up to New Hampshire was silent, save for the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers clearing the fresh powder from the glass. The morning sun was blindingly bright, reflecting off the snow-covered pines like millions of tiny diamonds. It was a beautiful day for a execution.

Marcus Vance was waiting for me at the designated Mobil station off Interstate 93. He hopped into the passenger seat of my Volvo SUV, a heavy manila folder tucked under his arm.

"The sheriff is notified," Marcus said without preamble. "Two units are stationed a quarter-mile down the road from your driveway. The moment you give the signal, they move in. We have the footage of the break-in, the forensic financial reports showing he embezzled thirty grand from your joint savings, and the trespass notices I sent his parents last week via certified mail."

"You sent them trespass notices?" I asked, a faint smile touching my lips.

"Standard precaution," Marcus grunted. "I had a feeling they’d try to join the party. Since they received formal legal notices stating they were banned from the property, their presence inside constitutes criminal trespass. Your husband is facing burglary, felony mischief, and grand larceny. He played himself."

We drove up the winding, unplowed driveway of the cabin. The white Audi I bought for Alex sat parked crookedly near the garage, its tailpipes still coated in ice. The broken glass of the back door had been poorly swept into a pile on the porch, covered by a piece of cardboard to keep the cold out.

I parked directly behind his car, blocking him in completely.

When I stepped out of the vehicle, the crisp, sub-zero air filled my lungs, clearing the last remnants of my exhaustion. I didn't feel tired anymore. I felt razor-sharp.

I walked up the front steps, Marcus trailing half a foot behind me. I didn't knock. I used my master key—the new lock configuration I had installed—to open the heavy oak front door.

The interior of the cabin smelled of stale smoke, cheap perfume, and expensive bacon. Laughter drifted from the kitchen area.

"Alex, honey, where did you say the extra blankets were?" Eleanor’s voice echoed down the hallway. "This place is drafts, Bella really should invest in better insulation if she’s going to keep this place."

I walked into the open-concept living room. Alex was sitting on the leather sofa, wearing a cashmere sweater I had given him for his birthday. Lauren Navaro was curled up next to him, her bare feet resting on my grandmother’s antique coffee table, a mug of coffee cradled in her hands.

The moment Alex looked up and saw me standing there, his face went through a spectacular sequence of colors: pale white, mottled red, and then an ugly, defensive gray.

"Bella?" he gasped, instantly dropping his arm from Lauren’s shoulders. He stood up so fast he knocked his coffee mug over, the dark liquid pooling on the rug. "What—what are you doing here? You said you had a double shift at MGH!"

"The surgery was canceled, Alex," I said, my voice completely level. I crossed my arms, my eyes shifting from him to Lauren, who was frantically trying to pull a blanket over her exposed legs. "And it seems my cabin is quite crowded."

Eleanor walked out of the kitchen, holding a spatula. She froze, her eyes widening. "Bella! Darling! We... we didn't expect you. Alex told us you were trapped in the city, so we thought we’d come up and make sure the pipes didn't freeze!"

"By smashing my back door with a rock?" I asked, pointing toward the kitchen. "I watched the whole thing on my security application, Eleanor. It was a lovely family tradition."

Alex stepped forward, his chest puffing out in that familiar, arrogant display of dominance he used whenever he wanted to browbeat me into submission. "Bella, stop it! You're making a scene in front of my family. Lauren is just a coworker! She didn't have anywhere to go for the holidays, so I offered to let her stay in the guest room. Stop acting crazy!"

"Crazy?" I repeated, a dry laugh escaping my throat. "Is that what we're calling fifteen months of sleeping together in my bed? Is that what we're calling the thirty thousand dollars you took from our joint account to buy her jewelry and pay her rent?"

Lauren’s eyes snapped toward Alex, her expression suddenly transforming from panicked to furious. "Thirty thousand? Alex, you told me that money was from your corporate bonus! You told me you owned this cabin!"

Alex’s face contorted with panic. He tried to grab my arm, his voice dropping to a frantic, angry hiss. "Bella, shut up! Shut your mouth right now! You don't know what you're talking about! She's just an assistant, I swear—"