I answered, expecting more yelling.
Instead, he laughed—loud, triumphant.
“I burned your dream sports car, Sam.”
My blood turned cold.
“What did you just say?”
“I’m at the house,” he continued, laughing again. “You wanted to keep it from me? Now nobody gets it.”
I grabbed my keys and ran.
During the entire drive home, images filled my mind—yellow paint melting under flames, the call I would have to make to my father, Derek standing smugly in the driveway.
When I turned onto our street, I saw the smoke first.
Thick gray clouds rising above the houses.
Then flashing emergency lights.
A fire truck blocked part of the road. Neighbors stood outside filming with their phones while heat shimmered above the pavement.
In my driveway, a yellow sports car was engulfed in flames.
Derek stood on the lawn, arms crossed, watching me as if he had just won.
I stumbled from my car, breath ragged.
Then I saw the license plate.
It wasn’t mine.
It belonged to Derek.
Before I could stop it, laughter burst out of me—loud, uncontrollable—just as a firefighter looked up and asked,
“Ma’am… whose car is this?”
The question hung awkwardly in the smoky air.
Derek’s confident smile faltered when I kept laughing. It wasn’t joy—it was disbelief. A grown man had set a car on fire simply to punish his wife.
“That’s my husband’s vehicle,” I said finally, forcing my voice to steady. “Registered to Derek Caldwell.”
A police officer stepped closer. “Ma’am, are you saying you didn’t do this?”
“He called me and said he did,” I replied, pointing directly at Derek.
Derek snapped immediately, “She’s lying! It’s her car! Her parents bought it. She’s trying to blame me.”
I inhaled slowly. “The Lamborghini my parents gifted me is still at the dealership. Here’s the contract and the dealer’s address.”
I pulled the paperwork from my purse and handed it over.
Another officer motioned Derek aside. “Sir, come over here.”
“It was a prank,” Derek said quickly. “A stupid anniversary prank.”
“Pranks don’t involve accelerant,” the officer replied calmly, glancing toward the driveway where a fire investigator was already examining the scene.
The investigator asked for our porch camera footage.
Ironically, Derek had installed those cameras himself. He called them security. I always thought they felt more like control.
Now they were evidence.
