He Hid His Mistress in Our Basement

At my engagement party, my fiancé's student dumped a bucket of red paint over my white dress and screamed that I had killed my own parents. Preston and I stood on the little stage, holding champagne and smiling at our guests. Lena came charging across the ballroom. "You cursed little jinx!" she screamed, hurling the paint at my chest. "Your parents died because of you! Stay the hell away from Professor Grant!" She spun on Preston, eyes wet, chin trembling. "What does she have that I don't? Tell me, Preston. What?" He slapped her. Hard. Then dragged her toward the door. "Listen to me," he hissed. "I have zero interest in a gold-digger. You touch Claire again, and I swear to God, you'll regret it." Lena wouldn't go quietly. She came back like a ghost. She blocked my car. Threw coffee in my face. Hired thugs to jump me in parking lots. Every single time, Preston went scorched earth on her. The worst was the car bomb. A month in the ICU. A limp I'd carry forever. Preston lost it. He broke both her legs himself and shipped her off to prison. The whole city said the same thing: "Professor Grant would take a bullet for that woman." Until last Tuesday. I went down to the basement to grab a bottle of red wine. I heard voices behind the wall. Her voice. "My leg hurts so bad when it rains. You were brutal to me, baby." Preston, quiet, flat: "Then remember it." Lena giggled. "What if she found out? That punishing me turned into sleeping with me?" "Cut it out. I'm kidding. As long as you're here every day, I won't stray." My blood turned to ice. --- So this was our "unshakeable love." A rotten little joke. "Gentle, Preston. You're always so rough with me." Her voice slid through the wall again. "Professor Grant, has your precious Claire ever seen you like this? What would she do if she heard us right now?" "Shut up." "You like me better. You only keep her around because you feel sorry for her, right?" "Focus, baby girl." "Preston, I want out. I've been in this basement so long I'm losing it." "Not yet. Not the right time." I balled my fists so tight my nails cut into my palms. Lena was supposed to be in prison. She was supposed to be rotting behind bars. And she was here. In my basement. How long? A month? Six? Or had she never gone in at all? I turned around and dragged myself up the stairs. At the bedroom door, my knees gave out. I hit the floor hard. I lay there staring at the ceiling while tears slid into my hair. I was eighteen when the earthquake hit. Mom and Dad threw themselves over me. They died. I survived. After that, closed spaces made me want to scream. Preston built this mansion for me. No arched ceilings. Glass everywhere. He said, "Claire, no wall is ever gonna trap you again." He took me to doctors. He flew me around the world. He held me every single night I woke up shaking. So I finally gave him my heart. He used to love me like it was the only thing keeping him breathing. And now— A hand pulled me up. Preston frowned. "What the hell are the maids doing? My wife is on the floor and nobody notices?" I looked up at him. He'd cleaned himself up. No trace of her on him. Except for the collar of his shirt, flipped up too high, hiding something. I could still see it. A hickey. I pushed his hand off. "I sent them home early." A thud downstairs. I locked eyes with him. "Someone down there?" His face twitched. Then he smiled. "You're hearing things. Probably the pipes." I didn't say anything. I couldn't sleep that night. When I woke up, Preston was on the couch, phone in hand, looking worried. "Claire, honey. Lena's trending online." I opened Twitter. There it was: "#ProfessorGrantsExStudentReleased" "Sources say Lena Shaw was released early for good behavior. She's homeless and remorseful." "Can teacher and student mend fences?" "Forgive her! Professor Grant, take her in!" Preston sighed. "The whole internet is watching. If I turn her away, we'll be branded monsters by morning. The university's breathing down my neck too. If she ends up dead on the street, my career is over. Just… let her stay. A little while." Right on cue, the front door burst open. Lena dropped to her knees in front of me, slapping her own face and sobbing. "Claire! I'm an animal! I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" ---

My chest burned. I didn't have to guess. Preston had bought that trending hashtag. He wanted Lena walking out of that basement in broad daylight, and he used the whole internet to force my hand. I forced out one word. "Fine." Lena's face lit up. Her eyes flicked to Preston. Fast. Smug. I pretended I didn't see it. That night, the mattress shifted next to me. "Just a couple emails," Preston murmured. I kept my eyes shut. Waited for his footsteps to fade. Then I got up and followed him to the study. The door was cracked open. Lena's voice slipped through. Low. Laughing. "Knew you'd come find me. Your body doesn't lie, baby." "Shut up." "You always tell me to shut up. But you never stop, do you?" I stood there, fists shaking. Back in the bedroom, I grabbed the stuffed bear from my pillow. Preston gave it to me three years ago. "Hug it when you have nightmares," he said. I buried my face in it. Something inside my chest tore, and I knew it wasn't going to stitch back together. That weekend, Preston's students came over for dinner. Wine flowing, somebody brought up the engagement party. "Honestly, Mrs. Grant marrying the Professor? Girl won the lottery. He was way out of her league." My chopsticks froze mid-air. Another one chimed in, "Yeah, Lena was extra that night, but I mean… she wasn't totally wrong." They laughed. I looked at Preston. Old Preston would've slammed his glass down and thrown them out the door. New Preston leaned back in his chair, tipsy, and waved his hand. "All right, all right. Enough." Soft. Weightless. "Preston," I said. "You're just gonna sit there and let them talk about me like that?" He frowned. Annoyed. "They're drunk. They're kids. You really gonna pick a fight with a bunch of grad students?" I opened my mouth. Nothing came out. Lena floated over with a glass of wine. "Mrs. Grant, let me apologize. I was such a bitch to you. Please, let me make it up." She bent down. Her wrist "slipped." Red wine hit my white blouse like a punch. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" The wine ran down my chest. The fabric went see-through, every line of my bra showing. The guys started snickering. Elbowing each other. Lena's mouth curled into a smug smile. I stood up and slapped her across the face. Crack. The whole room went dead silent. Preston shot up. "Claire! What the hell?" He caught himself. Cleared his throat. Softened it. "You shouldn't hit people. No matter what, you don't put hands on someone." I stared at him. "I'm drunk too," I said. Lena covered her cheek. Tears slid down. She whimpered, "I know she's angry with me… I don't blame her…" Everyone crowded around her. Nobody looked at me. I walked upstairs. Voices trailed behind me. "Lena, don't cry, sweetie. She was totally out of line." "Get some ice, her face is swelling." "Claire really is a bad-luck charm. Look at her, ruining everybody's night." I shut the bedroom door. That slap? I put my whole body into it. My palm was still buzzing. Another sleepless night. My head pounded till sunrise. At dawn, I walked out to grab some Advil. The second I stepped past the gates, a black SUV screeched to a stop beside me. A hand slammed over my eyes. Someone dragged me into the backseat. ---

I woke up dizzy, with the taste of rust in my mouth. Rusted steel walls surrounded me. Ropes cut into my wrists and ankles. Lena walked over. She crossed her arms and looked down at me like I was garbage on the sidewalk. "You little bitch. You slapped me?" Her voice shook with hate. "Preston shattered my legs because of you. I laid in that hospital bed every day thinking about how to grind your bones into dust." She squatted down. Got right in my face. "But… I should thank you. You're so pathetic you can't even keep your man happy in bed." She smiled. "Once he had a taste of me, he couldn't send me to prison. He hid me. He comes to see me every day. He's crazy about me now." I stared right at her. "If you've got the guts, kill me." Lena stood up. Scoffed. "Kill you? Nah. I want you to wish you were dead." She backed up and snapped her fingers. "Boys. Work her over. Hit her till she can't beg." Fists rained down. I fought back. Someone shoved my face into the concrete. The punches kept coming. My breathing got shallow. Two huge slabs of stone slammed down on top of me. Dark. Pitch dark. Terror swallowed me whole. I was eighteen again. Buried under the rubble. My parents crushed above me. I screamed. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!" "DON'T LEAVE ME IN HERE!" "PLEASE, I'M SCARED!" I don't know how long I screamed. My throat went raw. Then my voice went silent. Then I heard him. Preston. I put every last ounce of strength into it. "Preston! PRESTON! I'm in here! Help me!" But my voice was gone. What came out was thinner than a whisper. "Baby, don't worry," Lena purred. "She's probably in a mood. She went out somewhere." Preston said nothing. "You wanna know what I really think?" she went on. "That girl is a walking storm cloud. Ever since you two got engaged, how many of your deals fell through? One after another." He was quiet for a long moment. Then, low: "Yeah… sometimes I do wonder if she's cursed." My tears hit the dirt. I still remembered every word he ever said. "Claire, marrying you is the best thing that'll ever happen to me." "Cursed? That's crap other people say. You're my lucky charm." Now it's, "Sometimes I do wonder." He thinks I'm a jinx. Just like everybody else. Somewhere in the distance, a clock tower started chiming. One. Two. Three. Twelve. Midnight. My birthday. Then the sky exploded. Fireworks. Boom after boom after boom. Lena squealed. "Preston! You remembered I love fireworks!" Preston laughed. "Of course I did, baby girl." Half an hour of fireworks. One after another. Lighting up the whole night. Through the crack between the stone slabs, tiny slivers of light reached me. Red. Blue. Gold. Flickering. My body was going numb. I remembered the first year I knew Preston. Mom and Dad were still alive. To win me over, he set off fireworks outside my house all night. Stood down on the sidewalk yelling up at my window. "Claire! Just look down! Just once!" His eyes back then were so bright. So full of me. Tonight his fireworks are for someone else. Something warm ran down between my legs. I closed my eyes. Everything faded away. ---