Chapter 1

In the seventh screenshot, I recognized her hand. Laura Evans sent me screenshot after screenshot from my husband's WhatsApp, asking me to identify "that woman."

The first six were textflirty, explicit messages that made my fingers go cold.

The seventh was a selfie. Only half the woman's face showed, but her hand rested on her collarbone, a red agate bracelet on her wrist.

I was the one who gave her that bracelet after spending half a month hunting down that old-mine piece of agate for Laura's thirtieth birthday.

I stared at it for three seconds. Then another message from Laura popped up: [Did you see it? This woman's such a slut. Do you know her?]

I typed two words: [Don't know her.]

Something had been off with William Carter since April. He used to leave his phone on the coffee table, the passcode set to my birthday.

Then one day in early April, I picked it up to check a delivery and found the passcode had changed.

"I switched it to something more secure. Too many scam calls lately," he said.

I didn't think much of it.

Then there was dinner. He used to call if he was working late and say, "Save me some food."

After April, the calls turned into WhatsApp messages: [Not coming home for dinner tonight.] Twice a week became three times, then four.

By May, he wasn't home for dinner five nights out of seven. I dumped the food I'd cooked into the trash once, twice, ten times.

The eleventh time, standing in the kitchen with a plate of ribs, I suddenly felt ridiculous.

The second change was the shower. William used to collapse on the couch first, and I'd have to nag him three times before he'd wash up.

Now the second he came home, he rushed into the bathroom and threw his clothes straight into the washer.

One time, when I went to bring in the laundry, I picked up his white shirt and sniffed it. Beneath the detergent was a faint trace of perfume, not the kind I used.

I swallowed it for two more weeks. Then, one night in late May, I finally called Laura.

Laura had been my college roommate. We'd known each other for twelve years.

She was my maid of honor, I stayed with her when she was sick, and when I gave birth, she waited outside the delivery room for six hours. We were closer than sisters.

I told her about all the strange things William had been doing lately. The more I talked, the lower my voice got, until it broke into sobs.

"Hang tight," Laura said, her voice calm. "I'll look into it for you."

"How?" I asked.

"I know people. They can pull hotel records and spending history. Stop crying. I've got you."

I sat on the couch and buried my face in a pillow. At least, I thought, I still had one person to lean on.

Three days later, Laura sent me the first batch of "results": William's credit card records.

[Look at this. May 3rd, the Grandview Hotel. May 11th, the Grandview again.]

I stared at those dates, my hands shaking.

[Can you find out who the other person is?]

[I'm checking. For now, don't spook him. Pretend you don't know anything.]

[Okay.]

[Listen to me. If we're going to look into this, we need to do it thoroughly. Don't give him a chance to destroy any evidence.]

I nodded. At the time, I thought she was absolutely right. Now that line feels almost laughably ironic.

Laura's "investigation" moved fast. Within a week, she sent me William's navigation history, and one address kept appearing in his logs: Riverside Heights, Building 18, Apt 1603. She also found food deliveries he'd sent there.

She texted me: [That should be where the other woman lives. Look. Every Tuesday and Friday, always for two, always from the same sushi place.]

I stared at the delivery history. Tuesday and Friday. Those were the days William told me he was out checking job sites.

The sites were in the suburbs. Riverside Heights was downtown.

"There's something else," Laura suddenly said.

"What?" I asked.

"Does your husband's company have a coworker named Lily Grant?"

I thought about it. "I think he's mentioned her before. She handles purchasing."

"I checked. Lily is twenty-seven, single, and lives in the Riverside District."

Laura sent me screenshots from Lily's social feed. In the photo was a long-haired woman in a white dress, taking a selfie at a sushi restaurant.

"See that? Same sushi place as the delivery orders." She added.

My heart sank.

"It's probably her," Laura said. "Want me to keep digging?"

"Yes."

I didn't sleep that night. William got home at eleven, took a shower, lay down beside me, and started snoring within two minutes. I stared at the ceiling, thinking about Lily's face.

The next day at work I was a mess, and at lunch, when my coworker Sam asked if I wasn't feeling well, I said I was fine.

At three that afternoon, I did something stupid. I found Lily on WhatsApp and added her. My first message was: [You know William, right?]

Lily replied almost at once: [He's my boss. Why?]

I asked bluntly: [What exactly is your relationship with him?] There was silence for about two minutes. Then Lily sent me a long message.

[Mr. Carter is my boss. I have a fiancé, and we're getting married next month. Did you get the wrong idea? What you're saying is really hurtful.]

She sent me a photo with her fiancé, the engagement ring on her finger flashing. I froze.

[Who told you that?] Lily asked.

I replied: [A friend helped me figure it out.]

She continued: [Then your friend is way off. Every time Mr. Carter talks to me, there are people around. My purchase orders all go through the company system. Check anything you want.]

That night, I told Laura what had happened. She gave a short laugh. "Of course she wasn't going to admit it. Going straight to her was just warning her, wasn't it? Didn't I tell you not to rush?"

I replied: "But she's getting married next month."

"Then we keep checking other women. Stop doing things on your own and listen to me."

I said okay. Looking back now, when she told me not to do anything on my own, she wasn't protecting me. She was protecting herself.