100 Malicious Little Mysteries

Recipe for Revenge by Jane Speed

It was a recipe for heartbreak: her love was forever, his only for a while.

She knew this, of course. She was not a fool. But forewarned is forearmed, she told herself.

Brave words, false words. His goodbye, as lightly given as his love, left her stunned and desolate.

Outwardly all went on as before. Her husband, who never suspected, continued to invite business associates to dinner to show off her charming skills; she was an excellent cook and an impeccable hostess. And she did not once fail him, though it seemed to her now a daily act of courage just to stay alive.

Why did she bother? What was she waiting for?

“By the way, my dear,” her husband said one evening, “there’ll be two guests for dinner on Saturday. Remember that pleasant young man who came here so often last year? Couldn’t seem to get enough of your cooking. Well, he’s just back from his honeymoon, so I’ve invited the newly weds over for dinner. I didn’t think you’d mind. You do that sort of thing well.”

“Not at all,” she assured him. And, smiling a Borgia smile, she set about planning her ultimate menu.