“So, Vince, is your Grace a snake or your legal wife?” Lara asked with a coquettish smile, her question entirely rhetorical.

What was his wife, Grace, compared to her? A short, mousy woman with a boyish haircut who never wore makeup and lived in sneakers and jeans. Her only good feature was her large, brown, doe-like eyes. Pathetic. Lara, on the other hand, was a masterpiece: long, platinum-blonde hair, a figure-hugging minidress, and stilettos that could drive a man insane.

“Come on, Lara,” Vince replied, his voice a low growl. “You think I’m some kind of henpecked husband? A man decides where, when, and with whom he relaxes. The apartment is in my mother’s name. Grace knows her place.”

Vince, a portly and balding taxi driver in his mid-thirties, had lost his youthful charm long ago. He was the kind of man who peaked in high school and spent the rest of his life souring. His wife, Grace, had become boring, especially after the birth of their son, Michael. She was always tired, always worried. He needed excitement. He needed a woman like Lara.

His mother, Irene, was his staunch ally. She despised Grace and had never accepted their son, Michael, as her own grandson, often referring to him as a “stray.” Irene’s own husband had left her years ago, but not before setting her up with two apartments, allowing her to live a life of comfortable leisure. When Vince had brought Grace home, and then a baby had appeared, Irene had laid down the law: pay full market rent, or get out.

The pressure had been immense. Grace, who had been a rising star at a publishing house, had to take on freelance proofreading work from home just to make ends meet. The baby stroller, the crib, the clothes—she had bought it all herself.

“Just give me another chance,” Vince had pleaded with her after one of his earlier affairs. To prove his sincerity, he had proposed a family trip. “I’ve rented a wonderful cabin for the summer. Just the three of us. It’ll be beautiful. You’ll see, everything will change.”

Grace, clinging to the ghost of the handsome boy she had fallen for at their high school reunion, had agreed.

What she didn’t know was that this was all part of a meticulously cruel plan. Vince had no intention of a family vacation. He was planning an escape. He was tired of his nagging wife, and even more tired of his overbearing mother. He needed money, and he had a plan for that, too.

He had reconnected with his estranged father, Arthur, a successful and kind-hearted man who still felt guilty about the divorce. Vince had spun a masterful tale of woe, claiming his mother, Irene, was dying of a rare illness and that he was struggling to pay for her secret treatments. Arthur, a trusting man, had fallen for it completely and began sending large sums of money. Money that went directly to funding Vince’s lavish dates with Lara.

“You’re a good son,” Arthur had told him. “But I’d like to do something for your wife and child, too.”

“Oh, no, Dad,” Vince had said, feigning humility. “Grace is very proud. And Mom has poisoned her against you over the years. We’ll just have to wait.”

Vince’s grand plan was this: he would take Grace and Michael to the remote, isolated cabin. He would leave them there, feigning a work emergency. Then, he would take the money from his father, rendezvous with Lara, and head south for a new life. Grace, stranded with no money and no one to call, would eventually have to crawl back to him on his terms. She would finally understand her place.

To ensure her complete isolation, he had even blocked his mother’s number on Grace’s phone. A final, brilliant touch.

The cabin was deep in the woods, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. Cell service was spotty at best. After a single night, Vince announced he had to return to the city for an urgent fare. He left them with a hundred dollars and a promise to be back in a week.

Grace tried to call his mother, but the call wouldn’t go through. She tried texting her husband, but his replies were short and dismissive, full of crackling static and claims of a bad connection. She could, however, hear the faint sound of waves and a woman’s laughter in the background.

She didn’t know what to do. The week passed. Then another. The food ran out. The hundred dollars was gone. She was well and truly stranded.

One morning, a car pulled up. A tall, kind-faced man in his late thirties got out. “Hi,” he said, looking surprised to see her. “I’m Ben, the owner. My mother, who used to live here, passed away recently. I just came to check on the place. The rental period is over.”

Tears streamed down Grace’s face as the whole story came tumbling out. Ben’s heart went out to the distraught woman and her small, quiet son.

“Come on,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’ll drive you back to the city. No charge. I’m not a monster.”

The first stop was the apartment she had shared with Vince. It was empty. A “For Sale” sign was in the window. The neighbors told her it had been sold. Next, they went to her mother-in-law’s. The door was opened by a furious, slightly drunk Irene.

“So, you’re back?” she shrieked. “Your Valerka has sold his share of our family apartment and disappeared! He and his tramp are probably halfway to Mexico by now!”

A screaming match ensued. Irene, grabbing a mop, lunged at Grace. Ben stepped between them, his large frame a protective shield. “Ma’am, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he said calmly.

“And who are you?” Irene screeched. “Her new meal ticket?”

Ben, seeing the state she was in, decided it was time to leave. As they exited the building, Grace, feeling a desperate, last-ditch hope, found her father-in-law’s business card in her wallet. To her surprise, Arthur answered immediately. He was on a business trip, but he listened to her frantic, tearful story with growing horror and concern.

“Stay with your friend,” he said, referring to Ben. “I will figure this out. I’ll be back in a few days.”

Ben, overhearing, shook his head. “You’re not staying with a friend. You’re staying with me. You and Michael can have my mother’s old house. It’s empty. Stay as long as you need. No charge.”

Grace, overwhelmed by the kindness of this stranger, could only weep with gratitude.

Two years passed. Vince’s life, which had promised to be a sun-drenched paradise, had become a special kind of hell. The beautiful Lara had turned out to be a professional con artist. The morning after they had celebrated the sale of his apartment share, he had woken up in their cheap motel room to find her gone, along with all his money.

He had been forced to return to his old life, but it was a grimmer version. He drove for a budget taxi service, living in a squalid room provided by his new girlfriend, an older, alcoholic woman who treated him with a casual cruelty that made him long for Grace’s quiet disapproval.

One day, after a particularly humiliating fare, a fantasy began to take shape in his mind. What if Grace is waiting for me? he thought. What if some rich guy, her first love maybe, found her and took her in? She’s probably rich now. She’s probably realized how good she had it with me.

The fantasy grew, becoming a full-blown delusion. He saw her, beautiful and successful, welcoming him back with open arms, ready to forgive and forget. He was, after all, the father of her child.

He stole a pair of silver spoons from his girlfriend’s apartment, pawned them for gas money, and began the long drive back to the cabin, back to the life he had so carelessly thrown away.

When he arrived, he couldn’t believe his eyes. The rustic, dilapidated cabin was gone. In its place stood a beautiful, modern townhouse, with a manicured lawn and an elegant stone fence. He rang the intercom.

“Yes?” a cool, indifferent voice asked.

“Uh… I’m looking for Grace,” he stammered.

“Who is calling?”

He gave his name. Twenty minutes passed. He was about to leave when the gate buzzed open. He walked up the path and saw them on the porch. Grace, looking ten years younger, radiant and beautiful in a stylish dress and heels. And beside her, the stranger, Ben.

“Vince,” Grace said, her voice calm and devoid of emotion. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I came back for you,” he said.

“Let me introduce you,” she said, ignoring his words. “This is Ben, my husband. And this,” she said, as a voice came from behind them, “is Michael’s other grandfather, Arthur.”

Vince’s father stepped onto the porch. “Son,” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “You look terrible.”

Vince was speechless. He had been replaced. Utterly and completely.

“My life is terrible!” he finally wailed. “Lara robbed me! Mom hates me! I have nothing!”

“You have nothing because you are nothing, Vince,” his father said, his voice hard. “You are a lazy, dishonest man who betrayed everyone who ever cared for you.” He sighed. “But you are still my son. Here is what I will do. I will get you a job. I will help you find a room to rent. And that is all. There will be no more money. There will be no more lies.”

At that moment, the front door opened, and a small boy ran out. “Daddy, Daddy!” he shouted, and launched himself into Ben’s arms.

Vince watched, a single, pathetic tear rolling down his cheek, as the man who had taken his place effortlessly swung his son into the air.

Defeated, he turned to leave. As he walked away, he looked back one last time. He saw them standing together on the porch—Grace, Ben, Michael, and his own father. A perfect family.

It was all her fault, he thought, a familiar, bitter resentment rising in his throat. That snake. She brought a curse on me. He stumbled back to his rusty car and drove away, back towards the miserable life he had built for himself, forever exiled from the paradise he had lost.