I Faked An Injury To Escape My Abusive Billionaire Husband. But The Er Doctor Just Revealed A Dark Secret About My Husband’s First Wife. How Do I Go Back To That House Now?

The Brightest and Darkest Place

I looked around the spacious room: the large wardrobe, the vanity table, the bookshelf, and of course the door to the sacred bathroom. Where had Rebecca hidden her proof? “The brightest but also darkest place.” The phrase spun in my head like an annoying jingle.

I tried to think like Preston, to delve into his narcissistic image-obsessed mind. Preston loved light. The house was brightly lit everywhere because he hated darkness, hated unseen corners.

“The brightest place,” I murmured hobbling around the room.

I looked at the crystal chandelier in the center of the ceiling. It was bright yes, but could Rebecca have climbed up there without being noticed?

“Null.”

I moved to the reading lamp beside the bed. Too obvious. My gaze then fell upon the large vanity table in the corner, the place where Preston spent hours primping ensuring no gray hairs or wrinkles had appeared.

The vanity had a mirror surrounded by very bright round bulbs just like an actress’s dressing room mirror. It was the most blinding spot in the room. When turned on the light was momentarily blinding,.

Preston was madly in love with that mirror. He would stand there admiring his own reflection and therein lay the irony. A narcissist like Preston only sees what’s on the surface of the mirror: himself.

He never cared about what was behind it or what held it up. To him the world extended only as far as his reflection. Could that be what Rebecca meant? The brightest place because of its lights but the darkest because Preston never saw beyond his own reflection.

With my heart pounding I approached the vanity. I switched on the lights.

Click.

Bright white light flooded out illuminating my pale tired face. I ran my hands over the thick wooden frame of the mirror. It was solid. No cracks no visible secret drawers.

I started to lose hope. Was I wrong? Did she mean the garden lamp? Suddenly my eye caught something odd,.

Among the rows of bulbs circling the mirror one bulb in the bottom right corner was slightly crooked, not perfectly straight like the others. It was so subtle easily missed if you weren’t looking closely. I glanced at the bedroom door ensuring it was still locked then focused back on the crooked bulb.

My hand trembled as I touched it. It was hot of course. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the table to protect my hand and tried to gently twist the bulb to the left.

Scrape.

It made a gritty sound. The bulb came loose from its socket. And there inside the dark empty socket I saw something.

Not wires. Something black was peeking out wedged between the ceramic base and the wooden frame.

“Got you,” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

I used a bobby pin to fish the object out. It was difficult. Cold sweat trickled down my back.

If Preston walked in now and saw me messing with his beloved vanity it would be the end of me. I held my breath trying to keep my hands steady even as my heart threatened to leap out of my throat. Almost there…

A small object fell into my tissue covered palm. It was a micro SD card, an old one the kind used in phones a decade ago. It was still neatly wrapped in a tiny plastic medicine baggie to protect it from the lamp’s heat.

I stared at the tiny object in my hand with a mix of emotions. Was this Rebecca’s life? Her final voice? Was this the key that would unlock a prison door for my husband?

Rebecca was a genius. She had hidden the evidence of Preston’s crime right in front of his face every single day. Every morning when Preston looked in the mirror adjusting his tie and smiling proudly at himself he had no idea that the proof of his evil was staring back from behind the very light that illuminated him.

The brightest place and also the darkest place for a man blind to everything but himself. The sound of heavy footsteps came up the stairs outside the room. Panic seized me.

It had to be Preston. I quickly screwed the light bulb back into its socket twisting it haphazardly until it lit up again. I clutched the newly found memory card and stuffed it into the pocket of my pajama pants,.

I hobbled as fast as my aching hip would allow to the bed, jumped in, and pulled the covers up to my chest. I shut my eyes trying to calm my racing heart.

Click.

The lock turned. Preston entered.

“What’s wrong with you Ellie?” He asked suspiciously from the doorway.

I slowly opened my eyes trying to look like someone who had just woken up. “Oh Preston it’s nothing. I just had a nightmare. It startled me,” I answered, my voice genuinely hoarse.

Preston stared at me, his eyes sweeping the room then stopping at the vanity. “Why are the lights on? Who turned them on?” he asked coldly.

The glaring lights of the vanity! I forgot to turn off. My brain scrambled for an excuse.

“I… I wanted to look at my face in the mirror for a second to see the bruise but I got dizzy so I went right back to sleep. I forgot to turn it off,” I said praying the excuse sounded plausible.

Preston walked over to the vanity. My heart stopped beating as he stood right in front of the bulb I had just removed. He looked at his reflection for a moment then his hand reached out and flipped the switch.

Click.

The room grew dimmer. “Turn it off next time. It’s a waste of electricity,” he grumbled as he walked out again. “I’m going to get a drink.”

I let out a breath so deep I felt limp. That was close. So incredibly close. Now I had two memory cards. One from Dr. Miles for recording and one from Rebecca containing the past. And tonight I had to find a way to combine them into a weapon of mass destruction for Preston’s life.