Chapter 2

If not for that call, I would have replied:

[Thank you, but I need to focus on my family."]

But reality had slapped me hard.

I once thought this home was my entire world. I loved David enough to pack away all my design drafts and fabric samples, boxing up my dreams.

And what did I get in return? Betrayal.

No matter how much he once loved me, betrayal was unforgivable.

I replied to Matthew:

[I accept. Let's meet to discuss details after I return tomorrow.]

Then I began packing.

We were going home tomorrow, but the thought of returning to that house made my stomach churn.

I emailed divorce lawyer Victoria Reynolds to schedule a consultation. Opening my phone's notes, I started listing assets: our house, David's company shares, investment accounts, even the sports car he bought last year.

After ten years of marriage, I deserved my half.

Sophia turned over, the blanket slipping from her shoulder. I walked over and gently pulled it back up.

She was just a child, yet she'd already learned to lie for her father. Still, I would do my best to be a good mother.

I opened my laptop and logged into the home security system. The surveillance footage appeared on screen.

I dragged the progress bar back to the evening Sophia and I left.

The gym lights were on. His mistress was wearing my old college cheerleading practice outfit—the one I could no longer fit into—twirling in front of David. David sat on the weight bench, his gaze intense in a way I hadn't seen in years.

"Does it remind you of her back then?"

David didn't answer, just reached out and pulled her into his arms. The two on screen began kissing. I pressed fast-forward.

The next day, they had sex on the living room sofa. The third day, by the kitchen island. The fourth day, in our bedroom.

The most nauseating was the footage from Friday night.

The woman opened my walk-in closet and took out a designer sample I'd collected before marriage—one I'd never worn, saving it for a special occasion. She held it up to the mirror. David came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

"She probably can't fit into this anymore, right?"

"Probably not," David's voice was calm.

"What a pity," she turned, her fingers tracing his jawline. "Such beautiful clothes should be worn by someone who deserves them."

I closed the laptop. Nausea rose in my throat, but sharper than disgust was a piercing sense of humiliation.

My body, my pre-marriage collections, my former youth—all had become props in their sordid game.

Sophia's watch vibrated. The caller ID showed David.

"Sophia?" David's voice carried the breathlessness after sex.

"She's asleep."

There was a two-second silence. I heard him adjust his breathing.

"Emily," his voice instantly switched to a gentle tone. "Tired? I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. What would you like for breakfast?"

How considerate of him to call. I wondered if his mistress was still lying naked beside him, in our bed.

"No need."

"What's wrong?" I heard him shift, the familiar creak of the mattress.

He kept talking, sweet nothings one after another. Holding that watch, I couldn't focus.

"I'm tired," I interrupted. "I'm hanging up now."

At the airport the next day, David held a bouquet of red roses and a smaller bunch of sunflowers. He gave the sunflowers to Sophia and the roses to me.

"Welcome home," he hugged me.

But when I caught the unfamiliar perfume on him, I pushed him away.

In the car, David took out a deep blue velvet box.

"For you." He opened it. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a small ballet shoe pendant—I was a cheerleader, never a ballet dancer.

Sophia leaned over. "So pretty!"

David fastened the bracelet on my wrist. As the clasp clicked, I saw tiny engraving on the inside: For Anna.

I lifted my wrist. "Who's Anna?"

The car fell silent for a moment.

David laughed. "The seller must have made a mistake. I specifically asked for your name."

"Yeah," Sophia chimed in immediately. "I was right there when Dad ordered it. He said to engrave Mom's name."

Her tone was so natural, her eyes so clear.

Did she not realize this would push me away, or did she simply not care for me?

David kept explaining, saying he'd take it up with the store, have them remake it.

I listened, my heart turning to ice. My husband was lying, my daughter was covering for him. Their coordination was seamless.

David placed his hand on my knee. "Tonight, after Sophia's asleep, let's have a proper talk. I've missed you."

His fingers were warm, but I only felt cold.

I remembered this same hand caressing that woman in the footage, remembered him saying "her body was ruined after having a child."

"I'm tired," I said, gently removing his hand. "The flight was long."

Back home, I went straight to the gym. In front of that huge mirror, the image of them entangled seemed imprinted on the glass.

David followed me in.

He wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. "You used to practice your routines here. You glowed when you danced."

His hand slid down my arm. The same gesture, the same words. But now I knew he'd done the same with another woman in this very spot.

I took a deep breath, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"David," I said. "We need to talk."

His smile faded slightly. "What's wrong?"

"About our marriage."

He let go, turning to face me. His expression shifted from gentle to confused, then to a hint of unease.

"Emily, have you misunderstood something?" He tried to take my hand.

Looking at this face I'd loved for a decade, a sharp pain shot through my chest. But remembering the surveillance footage, I forced myself to stay clear-headed.

"Don't touch me," I shook off his hand. "David, we're getting a divor—"