Chapter 3

Mara's POV

The next morning, shortly after Graham’s car left the driveway, my phone lit up with a direct message on Instagram.

The profile picture belonged to Tessa Lane. She clearly knew exactly who I was.

“Hi Mara. I know reaching out might hurt you. Graham has always been worried that another shock might affect your recovery. He never wanted to cause you more pain. Owen was never planned, but he is innocent in all of this. I just hope we can eventually find a way where no one has to suffer anymore.”

I sat on the edge of the bed. In her version of our marriage, I was not Graham's wife. I was a responsibility he was too kind to abandon.

I didn't reply. I locked my screen. A moment later, a new encrypted email arrived from Price.

“The child's name and date of birth are consistent across multiple sources. The photograph's metadata also matches the date shown.”

The file contained only one attachment: a hospital photograph.

Tessa was lying in a hospital bed, holding a newborn wrapped in a striped blanket. Graham sat beside her, wearing a blue disposable hospital gown. His left hand was reaching out, letting the baby grip his index finger.

Right there, on his ring finger, was his platinum wedding band.

I looked at the digital timestamp printed at the bottom right corner of the photo.

October 14, 2021.

10:17 AM.

The silence in the bedroom pressed in on me.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled back to my archived call logs from three years ago. Between 9:30 AM and 11:00 AM on October 14, I had dialed Graham’s number twenty-two times.

I had kept calling from the bathroom, the ambulance, and later the emergency room. His assistant had repeatedly told me he was in a "critical lockdown meeting" and couldn't be disturbed.

I didn't know if he knew I was losing our baby while I called him again and again. But I knew that in the two hours I needed him most, he had chosen to make himself unreachable.

When Graham had finally rushed into my hospital room late that afternoon, he had collapsed by my bed, hiding his face in my blankets, shaking with sobs. I had once believed those tears were only grief. Now I knew guilt had been there too.

I saved the photo to my phone. I found the number of a divorce attorney a former client had once recommended, and booked the earliest available appointment.

After hanging up, I walked into our closet. I stood there for several minutes before I could remember what I had come upstairs to pack.

Eventually, I packed a single suitcase with my clothes and essential documents.

Downstairs, I printed the hospital photo and laid it flat on the kitchen island. I slid my diamond wedding ring off my finger and placed it over the timestamp.

Finally, I took out the velvet box containing his anniversary gift. I placed it next to the photo and flipped the lid open. Inside rested the silver watch. On the back of the dial was the phrase I had chosen months ago:

Thank you for always being there.

I rolled my suitcase out the front door and locked it behind me.

At 6:30, Graham would come home expecting the wife he had left that morning.

She would not be there.