Pawning My Wedding Ring to Buy His Worst Enemy

"Hurry up, Arthur. It's freezing out here." Maya's voice bounced off the concrete walls.

"Patience, baby." A metallic clink hit the undercarriage of my Porsche Panamera. "Brake lines take a minute to loosen properly. We want it to look like a tragic accident, don't we?"

I crouched behind the heavy steel tool cabinet. My knees screamed in protest. A sharp cramp tore through my stomach. Cold sweat slid down my spine, freezing against my skin.

Thick motor oil filled the enclosed space, twisting sickeningly with cheap vanilla perfume.

"Is she really going to drive it tomorrow?" Maya asked.

"She has the board meeting at nine." Arthur grunted, applying pressure to his tool. "She always takes the canyon road. Lots of sharp turns. No guardrails on the north side."

"You're terrible." Maya leaned against the workbench.

"I'm securing our future." Metal ground against metal, grating against my ears. "Hand me the pliers."

"Which ones?"

"The needle-nose. Right there on the tray."

"If they find out..."

"They won't. A catastrophic brake failure on a steep drop. The investigators will blame the mechanics who serviced it last week."

My back pressed against the cold steel of the cabinet. My husband of three years. Planning my funeral so he could screw his assistant in my bed.

"What about the life insurance?" Maya stepped closer to him.

"Ten million." A wet, sloppy sound followed. They were kissing right over the puddle of brake fluid expanding on the floor. "All ours."

"You promise?"

"I swear it. Plus her shares in the company."

"Did you transfer the offshore accounts yet?"

"Half of them. I need her fingerprint for the rest."

"How will you get that if she's dead at the bottom of a ravine?" Her tone sharpened.

"I cloned it from her tablet screen yesterday. I'm telling you, I thought of everything."

"What about the prenup?"

"Death clause." Arthur chuckled. "If she dies while we're married, the prenup is void. I inherit everything as the surviving spouse."

"Even the house in Aspen?"

"Especially the house in Aspen. Now hold the light steady, you're shaking."

"It's freezing! Why couldn't you do this tomorrow while she's at work?"

"Because she's driving this car to work, Maya. Keep up."

"Right. Sorry. I'm just nervous."

"Don't be. By this time tomorrow, we'll be picking out a casket."

"Do I have to go to the funeral?"

"Of course. You'll stand right by my side while I play the grieving widower."

"I can wear that black dress you bought me."

"The silk one? Perfect."

I looked down at the adjustable wrench in my hand. I had come down here to fix a loose pipe by the water heater. Instead, I found my executioners.

My fingers curled around the heavy iron handle. I squeezed. Tighter.

The sharp edge bit into my palm. Skin split. Warm blood welled up, slipping down my wrist. The sharp sting cut through the icy numbness paralyzing my limbs. Every breath I took tasted like rusty blood.

"Hold the flashlight higher," Arthur ordered.

"My arm is getting tired."

"Do you want the ten million or not? Shine it on the caliper."

"Fine. Are you sure the cut isn't too obvious?"

"I didn't sever the line completely. Just weakened the main fitting. The pressure from braking downhill will blow it out entirely. She'll hit the pedal, and it will go straight to the floor."

"You're so smart."

"I'm just tired of playing the dutiful husband to Cora Vance. She's cold. All she cares about is the bottom line."

"She doesn't know how to treat a real man."

"Exactly. Now, come here."

More wet kissing sounds. The slap of flesh.

"Not here," Maya giggled. "The floor is filthy. You're getting grease on my jeans."

"Let's go inside then. She took her sleeping pills. She won't wake up until morning."

"Did you make sure she swallowed them?"

"I watched her drink the whole glass of wine I crushed them into. She's out cold."

I hadn't drunk the wine. I poured it into the potted fern when he turned his back to answer a text.

"Good." Maya's footsteps tapped on the concrete. "I want to sleep in the master bedroom tonight."

"You will. Come on."

Footsteps retreated toward the interior door. The lock clicked, and the heavy oak door slammed shut.

Silence descended on the garage, broken only by the steady *drip... drip... drip...* of brake fluid hitting the floor.

I stepped out from behind the cabinet.

The dark puddle spread under the front left tire of my Panamera. My blood dripped from my hand, mixing with the slick oil.

I walked over to the workbench. My spare set of car keys sat right next to the diagnostic scanner Arthur had moved.

I grabbed the keys.

I didn't scream. I didn't break down. A strange, hollow laugh pushed past my lips, echoing in the empty garage.

My stomach tied itself into agonizing knots, but I pushed the pain down. I stepped carefully over the puddle of sabotage.

I unlocked the car door and slid into the leather driver's seat.

I pressed the ignition button.

The Porsche engine roared to life, shattering the quiet of the night. The dashboard illuminated, casting a harsh red glow across the interior.

I looked in the rearview mirror. The crimson light reflected off the blood smeared across my cheek. I smiled at my reflection.

Arthur wanted an accident.

I shifted into reverse. Tires screeched against the polished concrete as I backed out of the driveway, ignoring the garage door mechanism whirring loudly above me.

The canyon road stretched out like a black ribbon ahead of me. No streetlights illuminated the asphalt. No guardrails protected the north side. Just sheer drops into the rocky abyss.

Wind howled through the cracked window. It bit at my face, freezing the wet blood on my cheek.

My phone vibrated in the cup holder. The screen lit up with Arthur's name.

He must have heard the garage door. He must be standing in the empty bay right now, staring at the puddle of brake fluid, realizing his perfect plan was driving away without him.

I let it ring.

The steering wheel shuddered under my bloody palms.

A sharp left turn approached. The warning sign flashed yellow in my headlights.

I hovered my foot over the brake pedal. The one Arthur had rigged to fail.

The brake warning light glared orange on the dashboard.

I shifted my foot back to the gas and slammed it down.

The Porsche engine roared in the night, a mechanical beast unleashed. The dashboard's harsh red light reflected entirely on my bloody face.

The speedometer needle surged past one hundred.

It climbed to one hundred and twenty.