At night, Lucille prayed. She prayed for truth. She prayed for Serena’s eyes to open before it was too late.
The moment came sooner than expected.
Serena returned early from a business conference, deciding to surprise her husband. She did not call. She imagined his smile, the way he would pull her into a hug, the familiar scent of his cologne.
Instead, she found Lucille standing frozen in the living room, mop slipping from her hands.
“Ma’am,” Lucille whispered, her voice trembling.
Serena laughed softly. “I know, I should have called first.”
But Lucille did not smile.
They sat. Silence stretched between them until Lucille spoke, tears running freely down her cheeks.
“Mr. Knox brings another woman here whenever you are gone,” Lucille said quietly. “She is here now. She sleeps in your room. She treats this house as hers.”
Serena felt the room tilt. Her ears rang. Her heart protested against reason.
“That is not possible,” she said weakly.
Lucille reached for her hand. “Please, ma’am. If you want the truth, you must see it yourself.”
Serena swallowed hard. “How.”