Chapter 4

On Monday, my husband told his publisher that I had invented authorship because our marriage was failing.

Margaret Lowe filled the largest square, calm beneath her office light. Ethan appeared from our home study with the Black Harbor awards behind him, while I sat at the small rental desk where my suitcase still had not been unpacked.

“The contracts, covers, and registrations identify Ethan,” his lawyer said. “Claire had household access and removed confidential material after leaving the residence.”

I kept my hands flat beside Maya’s legal pad. “Open chapter twelve of the seventh manuscript.”

Margaret did. I described the…