Chapter 3

The woman was Daphne.

When she lowered the umbrella and smiled up at Graham, I recognized the faint scar beside her ear before I fully registered her face.

During our sophomore year of college, she had cut herself on broken glass while helping me move dorm rooms. I cried outside the emergency room harder than she did.

Afterward, she always joked that the scar was a medal for our friendship.

Now that scar rested beneath my husband's hand.

Graham brushed her damp hair behind her ear and bent to kiss the pale mark.

Daphne was wearing the green dress I had chosen for her.

Less than an hour earlier, she had told me she was meeting an important client.

The client was my husband.

I did not stand up.

I silenced my phone and aimed the camera through a gap in the plants.

In the first photograph, Graham pulled out her chair. His hand settled easily against the small of her back.

He moved with such familiarity that the server did not give them a second glance.

They had clearly been there before.

The server brought champagne without asking what they wanted.

Daphne smiled and held out her hand.

Graham reached into his pocket and removed a dark blue jewelry box.

When he opened it, I saw a delicate gold bracelet.

"A whole year," Daphne said.

"The first year is only the beginning." Graham smiled. "I will celebrate every one after this with you."

He fastened the bracelet around her wrist, then lifted her hand and kissed the inside of it.

Three years earlier, after my first embryo transfer failed, Daphne had sat across from me and held that same wrist.

She told me Graham was the most devoted husband she had ever met.

I had been crying too hard to answer. All I could do was nod.

The server soon returned with a small cake.

A number 1 stood in the frosting.

Graham pushed the plate toward Daphne.

She scooped up the first bite and held it to his mouth.

I took another picture.

The timestamp appeared automatically in the lower corner: 12:41 p.m.

Then I called Graham.

When my name appeared on his phone, he released Daphne's hand and motioned for her to be quiet.

"Hi, sweetheart."

The restaurant's music played beside me and through his phone at the same time.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"At the vendor's office. The meeting just ended."

"I do not feel well."

Graham looked at Daphne.

She immediately steadied the champagne glass on the table so it would not make a sound.

"Is it serious? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I do not know."

"I cannot leave yet," he said. "Call Daphne. She should be somewhere nearby today. Ask her to stay with you, and I will come home as soon as I finish here."

Daphne was sitting directly across from him.

Her head was lowered as she ran one finger over the bracelet he had just fastened around her wrist.

I gripped the tablecloth until I could trust my voice not to shake.

"All right."

"Do not be scared." His voice softened. "I will see you tonight. I love you."

He ended the call.

Daphne leaned toward him as though she were comforting him.

A few seconds later, Graham cupped her face in both hands and kissed her.

I opened the camera again and recorded seventeen seconds.

It was long enough to capture his face, hers, the bracelet on her wrist, and the anniversary cake on the table.

I uploaded the original video to my secure folder. Then I sent it to my attorney with the call log and statements from the old account.

After the files went through, I added one sentence.

I found the recipient.

My attorney replied almost immediately.

Keep the original files. Can you come in today?

I turned off my screen and left the untouched glass of water on the table.

Before walking away, I looked toward the window one final time.

Daphne was wiping frosting from the corner of Graham's mouth.

She had held me every time I lost hope.

He had held my hand before every treatment.

They knew better than anyone what the past three years had cost me.

That was precisely why they knew where to hide their lies. They knew which wounds would keep me too distracted to look closely at either of them.

I did not walk over to their table.

I left through the side entrance and got into my car.

The white envelope was still inside my purse.

I pushed it into the deepest pocket, then entered my attorney's address into the navigation system.

This child would not become my reason for staying inside a lie.