
1.2 K readers · 8 chapters · 3 free
For five years, my husband, Ian Jameson, has had a secret ritual. In the dead of night, he slips out of our bed, thinking I am asleep, to look at a photograph. The woman in the picture isn't me. It's his first love. I know because I've counted every single time. Tonight is the hundredth. And tonight, I finally hit my limit. Tomorrow, I am going to ask for a divorce. But before I could say a word, he cornered me in my office the next morning. I am a forensic analyst. He needs me to run a new analysis on a ten-year-old cold case. My findings are clear. "It's a homicide," I tell him, sliding the report across the desk. When Ian looks at it, his face is stone. "Change it," he orders. "The official report will read 'death by accident.'" Rage flares in my chest. I open my mouth to argue, but my eyes snag on the victim's name at the top of the file. My blood runs cold. The victim is his first love's father. All the anger drains out of me, replaced by a hollow chill. I look straight at him. "Ian," I ask, my voice barely a whisper, "who are you covering for?"