When my best friend left town for a work trip, she asked me to watch her house. I agreed, not knowing I’d uncover her husband’s betrayal—and his secret plan to take everything from her. But when I told her the truth, she didn’t thank me.
She accused me instead.
They said friends were the family you chose. I used to believe that with all my heart. Jessica had been my best friend since college, and even after all these years, we remained close.
We’d laughed, cried, and shared almost everything. But my intuition had never screamed louder than the day I met Mark, Jessica’s husband. Something about him felt wrong.
Cold eyes with a warm smile. Like someone pretending to be kind but hiding something darker underneath. I didn’t like him then.
And I liked him even less now.
One day, Jessica and I were sitting on her porch, like we had so many times before.
The air was soft with late spring heat, warm but not heavy, and her cat, Taco, sprawled on the sunlit tiles like royalty, one paw twitching in a dream.
Jessica stirred honey into her tea, slow and quiet.
Then she looked up at me with that guilty little smile I knew all too well—the kind she wore when she wanted something but didn’t want to ask.
“I need a favor,” Jessica said. Her voice was soft, like she already knew I wouldn’t like what was coming.
I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “What kind of favor?”
She avoided my eyes.
“I’m flying to New York next week. Big marketing pitch. I’ll be gone five days.”
I waited.
She still hadn’t asked anything real.
“Could you check in on the house?” she added. “Feed Taco, water the plants, maybe bring in the mail. Just keep it from looking empty.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“And your husband? What’s he doing while you’re gone?”
She looked down at her tea. “He said it’s not really his thing.”
I blinked.
“What’s not his thing?”ly
“Taking care of the house. Feeding the cat. He said it’s not a man’s job.”
I scoffed and shook my head.
“So, he can close real estate deals and wear cufflinks before noon, but a can of cat food is too much?”
Her jaw tightened. “Mark’s just not domestic. That’s just how he is.”
I leaned forward.
“Jess, I love you. You know that. But you’re doing it again.”
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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