Three Years In Chains, A Lifetime Of Vengeance

When my fingertips touched the half-open door, my heart pounded hard in my chest.

I spent three years in prison after taking the blame for my husband, Michael Rivera. The sentence was reduced by three months because I saved people three times while I was in prison.

The freedom I received just before Christmas felt like a beam of light. It lit up the world that had stayed dark for two years and nine months.

With that surprise in my heart, I hurried home from prison. I imagined the smile Michael would show when I opened the door. I also imagined my daughter, Lily, running into my arms while calling out, "Mommy" in her soft voice.

That hope was the reason I traded nearly three years of prison. It was the belief that carried me through the cold nights. My home, my husband, and my daughter were all safe and waiting for me.

No. 18 on Central Avenue in Kregan was the home I missed for nearly three years.

I slowly pushed the door open. The scent in the entryway made me stop where I stood.

The smell was not jasmine.

Before I went to prison, Michael gave me a bottle of jasmine diffuser oil. He said the smell was as fresh as I was. I always placed it on the shelf in the entryway.

Now the air held a sweet perfume. The smell was strong, like an overripe apple giving off its last burst of sweetness before it began to rot. The scent made my nose itch.

The bottle of jasmine diffuser oil was gone.

My eyes moved across the entryway wall. My heart sank.

The family photo of the three of us at the beach was gone. Lily's picture in her princess dress from her first birthday was gone as well.

Faint marks stayed on the wall where the photos once hung. Those marks looked like scars, reminding me that something had changed.

There was also no Christmas tree in the living room.

A sense of foreboding filled me. Breathing suddenly felt difficult.

"Michael?" My voice came out careful and uncertain as I called into the living room. The sound carried through the quiet house, and the echo only made the emptiness feel heavier.

No one answered.

Even so, the house didn't look empty. Signs of life surrounded me, yet none of them felt like they belonged to me.

Two wine glasses with stems rested on the table. Faint lipstick stains marked the rims. The shade was a deep red I had never used.

A black silk nightgown hung loosely across the sofa. The design showed too much skin, and the size was larger than anything I wore. The same strong perfume still clung to the fabric.

Slow steps carried me toward the sofa. As my hand brushed across the surface, I noticed a fresh scratch.

Without pausing to think, I crouched down and slid my fingers into the narrow space beside it. My fingertips touched something small