Chapter 3

On the morning of December 31, Julian called me.

“The overseas audit is still a mess,” he said, sounding deliberately exhausted. “I’ll be at the office all day, but I’ll come home before the countdown. I haven’t forgotten my promise.”

Behind his voice, I heard traffic and the zipper of his briefcase.

I looked at the seaside villa address saved on my phone, along with the payment bearing Bianca’s name.

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

After the call ended, I sat at the kitchen table with one hand resting over my stomach.

For seven years, I had spent every New Year’s Eve beside my husband. This year, I had planned to tell him we were going to have a baby.

Instead, I was sitting alone while he lied about where he was going.

I opened the map, picked up my keys, and left the house.

An hour later, I reached a public coastal road overlooking a row of private villas. Julian’s black Bentley was parked outside the address from the payment record.

I stopped farther down the road and stared at it.

I had watched that car leave our driveway that morning. Julian had looked me in the eyes and said he was going to the office.

I got out and followed the public coastal path until I could see through the villa’s floor-to-ceiling windows.

Inside was a heated pool.

A woman lay on a floating lounger. I recognized her from the photographs on Julian’s phone.

Bianca.

A little girl with twin ponytails splashed through the water beside her. A moment later, Julian stepped into view wearing swim trunks.

The girl raised her arms toward him.

“Daddy, catch me!”

Julian laughed, lifted her onto his shoulders, and carried her through the pool.

The word stayed with me.

Daddy.

My hand moved instinctively to my stomach. My baby was eight weeks old, and Julian did not even know it existed. Yet here he was, playing father to another woman’s child.

For one foolish second, I tried to find another explanation. Maybe the girl wasn’t his. Maybe “Daddy” was simply what Bianca had taught her to call him.

Then Bianca swam toward him.

Julian lowered the girl into the shallow end before wrapping an arm around Bianca’s waist. She slid both arms around his neck, and he pulled her closer.

Then he kissed her.

Something inside me went completely still. It was not anger or jealousy, only the quiet realization that the man I had defended for seven years had built an entire life that did not include me.

I raised my phone.

From the public path, I recorded Julian holding Bianca, their kiss, the child calling him Daddy, and the Bentley parked outside the villa.

I also photographed the house number beside the gate.

I did not need to see anything else.

Back in my car, I sent the photographs and video to Catherine.

“Prepare the divorce papers,” I told her. “I’m leaving tonight.”

I returned home, packed one suitcase, and took only my documents, medication, work files, clothes, and the belongings that had come from my family.

On the dressing table, I left the photographs, Julian’s card to Bianca, my ultrasound report, and the tiny white baby socks.

My wedding ring rested on top of the proposed divorce agreement Catherine had prepared.

By seven o’clock, I was gone.

At 10:07 p.m., my phone lit up with an alert from the home security system.

FRONT DOOR UNLOCKED — JULIAN.