The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

Do you know those movies about the scary cult of, like, creepy kids who can read minds and worship the devil and live in the cornfields or something? Well, if they were casting for one of those movies, this girl would get the part. They wouldn’t even have to audition her. They would take one look at her and be like, Yes, you are creepy girl number three.

I get up off the queen-size bed, my feet sinking into the plush carpet of the hotel room. This room is costing Andy’s credit card a fortune, but that’s okay. I won’t be here long. I go into the bathroom and I hold up the photograph of Andy’s smiling face. Then I pull out the contents of my pocket. It’s a lighter. I flick the starter until a yellow flame shoots out of it. I hold the flickering light to the edge of the photograph until it catches. I watch my husband’s handsome face turn brown and disintegrate, until the sink is full of ashes. And I smile. My first real smile in almost eight years. I can’t believe I finally got rid of that asshole.