Chapter 1

During Teacher Appreciation Week, flowers from my husband’s mistress arrived at our front door on the same morning I learned I was pregnant.

I did not know who had sent them yet.

The bouquet was enormous—champagne roses arranged in a crystal vase.

At first, I assumed it was a thank-you gift from one of Mark’s students or their parents. He taught at a private high school, and gifts often arrived during Teacher Appreciation Week.

Then I noticed the card tucked between the flowers.

The handwriting was unfamiliar and flamboyant.

“Dear Mark, Happy Teacher Appreciation Week. Thank you for always giving my daughter and me such special care. I love the bag you gave me. You said you would do your best to give me anything I wanted. From now on, I want to spend every special day with you. Love always, Elena.”

I read the message twice before checking the shipping label.

Mark’s name was printed above our address.

The flowers had not been delivered to the wrong house.

Beside them lay the ultrasound report I had brought home that morning. The words early intrauterine pregnancy were printed across the page.

Only a few hours earlier, the doctor had smiled and congratulated me. I had driven home imagining how I would tell Mark that we were finally having a baby.

Now another woman was thanking my husband for buying her gifts.

My thoughts returned to the previous week.

My father’s oncologist wanted to begin another round of targeted cancer therapy, but his insurance had denied coverage.

The cancer center required an $18,000 deposit before the treatment could begin, and I had called Mark from the hallway, begging him to let me use what remained in our savings.

“You know my salary barely covers our daily expenses,” he had said. “We can’t risk everything we have. Ask your relatives if they can help.”

I believed him.

I called everyone I knew and borrowed what I could, but it still wasn’t enough.

My father died three days later.

While I had been begging people to help save his life, Mark had been buying another woman gifts.

Nausea rose in my throat.

I hurried into the bathroom and dropped to my knees beside the toilet. When it passed, I looked up and barely recognized the pale woman in the mirror.

My eyes were still swollen from crying for my father.

I placed one hand over my stomach.

In the same week, I had lost my father, discovered I was pregnant, and learned that my marriage was built on a lie.

When I returned to the entryway, I did not destroy the flowers or call Mark.

Instead, I photographed the bouquet, the card, and the shipping label. Then I hid the ultrasound report inside a drawer where Mark would not see it.

I searched for a reputable family-law firm and called the first number on the list.

The call was answered after two rings.

“Stern United Law Firm.”

“My name is Claire,” I said. “I need to speak with someone about a divorce.”