Chapter 2

I stood in front of the guestbook for several seconds before putting my badge back on.

Ethan tried to follow me, but Margaret grabbed him first.

Rachel quickly removed the emerald brooch, as though moving fast enough could make me forget whose chest I'd seen it pinned to.

"Claire, this isn't the place to talk." Ethan lowered his voice.

"Of course it isn't." I looked at him. "Go finish taking your family pictures."

I turned around and went back to work in my office, giving him no chance to keep explaining.

Ethan finally came home at nine that night.

I was still sitting at the dining table, the event registration log I'd printed at the senior living community lying in front of me.

His navy suit was wrinkled now. The moment he saw the log, his steps visibly faltered.

"I tried to go after you this afternoon," he began, "but you wouldn't listen to my explanation."

"So you stayed and finished the photo shoot?"

"It was just a family event."

"Whose family?"

Ethan didn't answer. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.

"Rachel's father is recovering at the community. The kids wanted to take a picture to cheer him up, and my mom was there too. They only called me over at the last minute."

"They called you Dad."

"The kids didn't have a father figure when they were little. They call me that sometimes."

He said it so calmly, as if fourteen-year-olds couldn't tell the difference between their father and their mother's friend.

"Rachel was wearing your family's heirloom brooch."

"My mom lent it to her for the pictures. Claire, you can't condemn everyone over a single photograph."

"The photographer called her Mrs. Hale. Why didn't you correct him?"

Irritation finally surfaced on Ethan's face.

"The place was full of elderly people. Was I supposed to embarrass everyone in front of them?"

So his silence had been meant to protect their dignity.

The staff had been asked to escort me out, but apparently, I wasn't one of the people whose dignity he needed to protect.

Ethan sat across from me, his tone softening again.

"I know anything involving children is triggering for you."

"We tried for so many years, and you still haven't moved on."

"But those kids aren't your enemies. And I've never blamed you for not being able to get pregnant."

Once again, he made my body the problem.

"Where did you go after the photo shoot?"

"Back to the office. The meeting for the North District project ran until eight."

I didn't call him out on the lie. The event log showed that the Hale family hadn't left the community until seven.

After Ethan went to take a shower, I opened our joint credit card statement.

A twenty-eight-hundred-dollar gold dress, two tablets, a junior tennis camp, a beachfront hotel, and the cost of today's photo shoot had all been charged to the card.

For the past two years, I had paid off almost every statement myself.

Ethan had told me his mother was getting older and needed an authorized card for medical bills and daily expenses. I'd never questioned the individual charges.

Then I found an electronic receipt from a jewelry store in our shared billing inbox.

A sixteen-hundred-dollar diamond bracelet had been delivered to Rachel's home.

The order had been paid for using Margaret's authorized card, but it had been placed through an account belonging to Lily.

The gift message read:

To the real Mrs. Hale. You deserve nothing but the best.

—Lily

The sound of running water stopped in the bathroom.

I forwarded the statements, receipts, and event log to my private email.

For eight years, I'd believed the Hale family had never accepted me.

Now I finally understood.

They had accepted me.

They had only ever accepted my money.