Chapter 3

The next morning, I placed the record of Taryn's twenty-five-thousand-dollar payment in front of Wes.

When he saw the memo, his first response was not an explanation.

He wanted to know why I still had access to the company email.

"Because I created that account," I said. "You can tell me Taryn works hard. You can tell me she deserves a raise. But you cannot take money we saved for our baby, give it to her, and then tell me this is only business."

Wes folded the statement and pinned it beneath his coffee mug.

"Company cash flow does not work that way. Your transfer covered a temporary shortage. Taryn's bonus had already been approved. It did not come directly from that forty-eight thousand."

He paused.

"And the memo was just a thank-you. She stayed when the company was struggling. If you insist on turning every sentence into proof of an affair, nothing I say will satisfy you."

"I didn't ask what kind of relationship you have." I looked at him. "I asked why you never told me our baby's money would be used to pay her bonus."

"I said I would replace it when the client paid."

"When?"

He gave me no date.

Instead, he accused me of letting the employees see my displeasure at the party and warned me not to go into the office asking questions. After he returned from his trip, he would organize the accounts and explain them to me.

It was not until he said trip that I noticed the small suitcase beside the front door.

"You told me there were no more trips before Christmas."

Wes hesitated, then said a client had moved a meeting in Chicago forward. It would only be two nights. Taryn managed the project, so she was going with him.

He delivered the explanation in one breath, as though speaking quickly meant he did not need my consent.

"That Chicago trip was supposed to be ours," I said. "Three months ago, you let me choose the window seat. You said it would be our last trip alone before the baby came. Then you told me the meeting was canceled and the tickets were refunded."

"It was canceled. Now it's back on." He zipped the suitcase. "Your blood pressure is unstable, and your doctor would never approve a last-minute flight. Taking Taryn is about work. I am not replacing you with her."

"You didn't ask my doctor, and you never told me the meeting was rescheduled. You weren't worried I couldn't go. You never planned to take me."

A horn sounded outside.

Taryn had arrived.

Wes lifted the suitcase, clearly finished with the conversation.

"I'll come to your next appointment when I get back," he said. "The client and the project team are waiting. Don't force me to destroy a meeting at the last minute just to prove something to you."

"How many rooms did you book?"

He stared at me for two seconds.

"Two. I know you're angry, but stop interrogating me like I am a cheating husband."

The door closed behind him.

I did not follow.

Thirty minutes later, a hotel confirmation arrived in our shared family inbox. Wes always used our membership account because he had promised to save the points for future family vacations.

The original reservation did show two rooms.

But Taryn's had been canceled at 11:47 the previous night.

Only a suite with a separate living area remained, with two guests listed for check-in.

I searched every hotel reservation made since Taryn joined the company.

The same pattern appeared seven times.

Wes booked two rooms, then canceled one shortly before the trip. Every final folio listed Taryn as the second guest.

The newest reservation included a special request she had added that morning.

Please provide one king bed. No sofa bed needed.