Chapter 1
"Mr. Ravenscroft, your wife is here," someone suddenly announced during the video conference.
I froze.
I was Henry's wife. I was sitting at home.
On the screen, the door to Henry's study swung open.
A woman walked in.
She was very pregnant. At least seven months.
In the virtual conference room, two hundred people went dead silent.
I stared at the screen.
Henry panicked.
He reached to turn off his camera, hit the wrong button, and pinned his feed to full screen instead.
In that moment, every single person saw her face clearly.
Including me.
*****
The quarterly all-hands meeting had started at two sharp.
Over two hundred of us logged in from wherever we were.
I was curled up on the couch at home, laptop balanced on my knees, listening to Henry present the slides.
He was good. Really good. Voice steady, thoughts sharp, numbers solid.
We'd been married ten years. He'd started as a junior sales rep and worked his way up to sales director. I'd watched every step of that climb, and I was proud.
When we got married, he had nothing. The house was mine, bought before we tied the knot.
My parents covered the two-hundred-thousand-dollar down payment.
The year his startup tanked, I handed over 130 thousand of my own savings to clear his debts.
When he bounced back, I put in another 200 thousand to keep things afloat through the rough patches.
Over ten years, I'd handled the books. Mortgage, car payments, kids' tuition, support for both sets of parents.
All told, I'd poured at least three million into this family.
I never minded. That was what marriage was. You build it together. No yours or mine.
Now he was pulling a 700-thousand-dollar salary, and I was happy for him. The late nights, the client dinners, the constant travel. I got it.
Until today. Two forty-seven p.m.
"Mr. Ravenscroft, your wife's here," someone suddenly announced during the video conference.
It was the admin assistant from the office. Her voice sounded off. Less like an announcement, more like a heads-up.
I looked straight at Henry's tile.
His study door opened.
A woman walked in wearing a pink sundress, long hair loose, makeup perfect.
Her belly was huge.
"Henry, you promised you'd come with me to my prenatal appointment today," she said.
Her tone was sweet, a little pouty.
The call went quieter than quiet.
Two hundred people, not a word.
My mind went blank.
Henry whipped around, trying to nudge her back out.
"Get out. I'm in a meeting," he said sharply.
"What meeting? You've been on for two hours already. The baby's hungry—" she began, but stopped short.
Because she spotted the screen.
On the screen, over 200 avatars were neatly lined up.
One of them was me.
Delilah Hawthorne. Henry's wife.
My title right there next to my name: Director.
We worked at the same company. Different departments.
The woman went pale. She looked from the screen to Henry and back again.
Henry lunged for the camera controls.
He was shaking.
He hit the wrong key.
Instead of going dark, his feed blew up to full screen.
Everyone got a crystal-clear view of her face.
Her belly.
And Henry's study.
The "rental" he kept that I'd never once visited.
Someone in the call sucked in a breath loud enough to hear.
Then the whispers started.
"Isn't that..."
"Wait, is she..."
"Holy shit..."
Henry finally found the right button.
The screen went black.