Chapter 4

My sister didn’t open the door.

“She’s made herself clear.” Her voice cooled as she watched the screen. “Please leave.”

Evan tightened his grip on the shopping bag and looked into the camera.

“Seven years of marriage, and she can’t give me ten minutes?”

I stood behind my sister, my fingertips pressed against the edge of the table.

When he canceled our anniversary dinner, he hadn’t let me finish a sentence.

Now he was standing here demanding ten minutes.

“Don’t ring the bell again.” My sister ended the call.

I went back to the guest room and emailed Morgan to let her know he’d come to the house.

I didn’t go outside.

I didn’t watch him from the window, either.

Twenty minutes later, my sister knocked.

“He’s gone.” She set a glass of water on the desk. “Try to get some rest tonight.”

I nodded and wrapped my hands around the glass.

Only then did I realize my palms were sweaty.

Morgan called the next morning.

“Your husband replied to my email. He admits he’s been having an affair with Vivian.” She paused. “He says it’s over and would like you to consider marriage counseling.”

I looked at the calendar on my desk.

Three days ago, he’d been celebrating their third anniversary.

“Keep moving forward with the divorce.” I pushed the calendar aside. “Anything else he needs to discuss can go through you.”

“Of course,” Morgan said. “For today, start gathering the account records we discussed. Flag any expenses you don’t recognize.”

At ten, I logged in to our joint account.

Usually, I only checked that the mortgage and household bills had been paid. I rarely went back through individual transactions.

A recurring payment caught my attention.

Twenty-eight hundred dollars a month.

The recipient was an apartment management company.

I looked further back.

The payment was there last month.

And last year.

Our mortgage went to a bank. This was something else.

I didn’t assume what it was for. I downloaded the records and wrote down the recipient and amount.

Over lunch, my sister asked how it was going.

“There are a few payments I can’t explain.” I set down my spoon. “I’ll have Morgan look into them.”

She nodded and moved my soup a little closer.

That afternoon, as I continued sorting the records, I remembered helping Vivian choose a dining table when she moved last year.

The delivery address was still in our messages.

I found it, then looked up the apartment’s management company.

The name matched the payments.

I stared at the screen, remembering the photo she’d sent.

Sunlight across her new dining table.

She’d said she finally had a place that felt like home.

I’d been happy for her.

I sent the address and payment records to Morgan and asked her to get an explanation from Evan.

Then I got up, washed my face, and came back to finish my client’s revisions.

At eight that evening, my sister came into the guest room holding her phone.

She didn’t hand it over right away.

“Vivian contacted me on social media.” Her brow was furrowed. “Do you want to see it now?”

I closed my laptop and held out my hand.

“Let me see.”

The first message read:

“She won’t answer me, so I need you to pass this along. There are things we have to discuss.”

Below it was an ultrasound image.

Vivian’s name was on it.

The date was only a few days earlier.

Then another line.

“I’m fourteen weeks pregnant. She can refuse to see me, but she can’t keep avoiding the issue of the baby.”

I read it again.

Fourteen weeks.

My own pregnancy report was in the folder beside me.

My sister pulled up a chair and rested a hand on my shoulder.

I enlarged the image, saved it, then took screenshots of the entire exchange.

“Send these to me.” I handed back her phone. “They’re going to Morgan, too.”

That morning, my husband had claimed the affair was over.

Now Vivian wanted to talk to me about their baby.

The phone vibrated again.

My sister looked down. Her expression changed.

“There’s more.”

I took the phone.

“He’s known all along. He came to my twelve-week appointment. He wasn’t on a business trip that day.”

I opened my calendar and found the date from two weeks earlier.

He had told me he was away on business.

And I’d gone to my first prenatal appointment alone.