Claimed by the Triplet Alphas

The rain was coming down hard against my windshield when I pulled into the driveway of the colonial house I had been calling home for three years. Three years of marriage. Three years of being the only person in this house who actually brought in a paycheck while Derek's trust fund remained perpetually tied up in investments that never seemed to resolve.

At twenty-six I felt like I was pushing forty. Peterson and Associates had been buried in end-of-quarter reports and I had not seen a normal workday in two weeks. All I wanted was a hot shower and a kind word. I had even stopped at our favourite Thai restaurant on the way home. Pad thai with extra shrimp, the expensive kind Derek always insisted on.

The house was quiet when I stepped inside. My heels clicked against the hardwood floors his mother had insisted we install at our cost.

"Honey, I'm home," I called out, setting the takeout on the counter.

Nothing.

His car was in the driveway. He had to be here.

I kicked off my heels and went upstairs. Halfway up I heard it. A woman's laughter, high and breathless, not from any television. My heart climbed into my throat as I moved toward our bedroom door, slightly open, the sounds coming through it steady and unmistakable.

I pushed the door open with hands that had gone past trembling and arrived at something steadier and colder.

Derek was on top of Grace, his father's personal assistant. They were so wrapped up in each other that neither of them noticed me standing in the doorway.

"Oh God, Derek, yes!"

"You're so much better than her," Derek breathed. "So much more responsive. I don't know why I wasted three years pretending to be satisfied with that frigid bitch."

Those words landed somewhere they were not going to leave.

"Derek."

His head snapped up. The colour drained out of his face.

"Mel. What are you doing here?"

"I live here." My voice found its footing. "The real question is what she's doing here. In our bed."

Grace grabbed for the sheet. Derek stared at me with an expression that had already moved past guilt and landed squarely on irritation.

"Mel, I can explain."

"Explain what? That you've been sleeping with her in our bed? That you called me a frigid bitch while she was still in the room?"

Derek sighed. He actually sighed.

"You weren't supposed to find out this way."

"Then how? Was there a plan?"

"Honestly?" His face hardened. "I was hoping you'd get the hint and leave on your own. This marriage was a mistake from the start. You're not what I need, not what I want, and not what my family expected."

"Your family expected. Derek, I have been keeping this house running for three years."

"I never asked you to. You're not one of us. You never were."

Grace had slipped off the bed and was gathering her things in silence. Derek did not