Chapter 2

Laura spent another three days and sent over a new batch of screenshots. [Found it. There's a contact in your husband's WhatsApp saved as 'L.' Their chat history is really flirty. I had someone grab screenshots. See if you recognize this woman.]

Seven screenshots in total.

The first six contain chat text.

[Miss you.]

[Are you coming over tomorrow?]

[I left you some sweet soup in the fridge.]

[Your wife did it again today... never mind. Just get some sleep.]

My finger swiped through them one by one until I got to the seventh. It was a woman's selfie, only half her face showing, pointed chin, pale skin, a tiny mole near the corner of her mouth. Her hand resting on her collarbone.

On her wrist was a red agate bracelet. I stared at it.

Thirty beads. Old-mine red agate. The biggest bead had a natural pale vein running through it.

I'd touched that vein before. For Laura's thirtieth birthday last year, I spent three days combing Redstone Market before I finally found it.

It cost about 900 dollars, and I remembered because my credit card was nearly maxed out that month.

Another message popped up on my phone: [Did you see it? This woman's such a slut. Do you know her?]

My thumb hovered over the screen. One second. Two second.

I zoomed in on the screenshot and looked at the mole half a centimeter below the left corner of her mouth. I'd been looking at Laura's face for twelve years.

[Don't know her.] After sending those two words, I set my phone on the table, went to the bathroom, and splashed water on my face.

The water was cold. When I looked in the mirror, my face held no expression at all. Then I went back to the living room and picked up my phone again.

Laura sent another message: [Then I'll keep digging into who this woman is. I should know soon.]

I replied: [Okay.]

Laura: [Don't panic. Wait for my update.]

I: [Got it.]

I put my phone down, went to the kitchen, and poured myself a glass of water. Halfway through it, my hand started shaking.

I set the glass on the counter, spilled a little water, straightened it, wiped the counter clean, and sat on a kitchen stool for forty minutes without moving. I didn't cry. What good would crying do?

Starting the next day, I never told Laura one true thing again.

On the surface, I was still the anxious, obedient Emily, waiting for her updates.

Behind the scenes, I started investigating on my own.

Step one was the delivery app. I knew William's login and used it to pull up the order history.

The earliest order for Riverside Heights, Building 18, Apartment 1603 was placed on July 14 three years ago. I was three months pregnant back then.

I kept scrolling. From that July until now, the orders lined up one after another: every Tuesday and Friday, with the occasional extra one on the weekend.

I counted them. One hundred ninety-two orders, every single one for two people.

When I was pregnant, it was food for two. When I was hospitalized trying to save the baby, it was food for two.

The night I miscarried, hemorrhaged, and lay in the operating room, he never came to the hospital. And that night, there was another order sent there.

Sukiyaki for two, plus a mango crepe. William doesn't eat mango. Laura loves mango.

I put the phone down, walked out onto the balcony, and let the wind hit my face.

I took three deep breaths. It didn't help, so I took three more. That was a little better.

Then my mom called. "Have you eaten?" She asked.

I replied, "Yeah."

"What did you eat?"

"Noodles."

"You keep eating noodles by yourself at home. That's not enough nutrition. Come back this weekend. I'll stew some ribs for you."

"Okay."

"Is William busy? Tell him to come too."

I paused. "He's out of town."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

"Then come by yourself."

"Okay."

After I hung up, I checked one more thing: the bank records. I logged into William's online banking. The password was still the same. And found a fixed transfer going out every month starting three years ago.

The recipient showed up only as "Ms. Evans" on the masked statement. But it was enough.

Three years. Five thousand dollars a month. About 180 thousand dollars total. And that was before the apartment at Riverside Heights.

I looked up the going price there, about 1,400 dollars a square foot. Apt 1603 was a roughly 960-square-foot two-bedroom. Total value: about 1.25 million dollars.

I didn't know how much of the down payment came from where. But I knew one thing. Two years ago, I asked William why our savings were down by over 225 thousand dollars.

He said he'd advanced money for a construction project. That was the money my mother scraped together for my marriage after selling the old family house.