Chương 7
The ache in my back returned.
This time stronger.
I pressed my palm against the wall.
“Are you sure?”
“I saw them sign in downstairs.”
“Do you know why they’re there?”
“No.”
“Does Ethan?”
“He left ten minutes ago.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
A sharp tightening wrapped around my abdomen.
I stopped breathing until it passed.
“Emily?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“That is not a synonym.”
I almost told her she sounded like Daniel.
Instead, I said, “Call me if anyone asks you to change, delete, backdate, replace, or move a record.”
“What about copying?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“And Priya?”
“What?”
“Don’t trust me just because you feel sorry for me.”
She was quiet for a long moment.
Then she said, “I don’t.”
Oddly, that made me trust her a little more.
I ended the call and went back inside.
Daniel took one look at my face.
“What happened?”
I sat down.
“My photograph is in an investor deck as a strategic advisor.”
He did not react immediately.
“What year?”
“Series B.”
His jaw shifted.
“You weren’t involved by then.”
“No.”
“Did you consent to use of your name or image?”
“No.”
“Could Ethan plausibly think you had?”
“No.”
Daniel nodded once.
“Then we have a different problem.”
“Apparently we have several.”
His phone vibrated.
He picked it up, read the message, and frowned.
“What?”
“My assistant says nobody from my office contacted Halpern.”
“Can you verify that?”
“I can verify our systems and ask people directly.”
“That still doesn’t tell us who made the inquiry.”
“No.”
I told him about Vanessa and outside counsel.
He leaned back slowly.
“That’s fast.”
“For what?”
“For a company that supposedly has nothing to worry about.”
I rubbed the place beneath my ribs where the baby had lodged a foot.
Daniel watched me.
“Are you having contractions?”
“No.”
“That looked like one.”
“It’s pressure.”
“You should call your doctor.”
“I have an appointment Monday.”
“Today is not Monday.”
“Thank you, calendar.”
He ignored that.
“Emily.”
“I’m fine.”
He gave me a look.
I hated it because it was concerned and because concern made me feel weak.
“I need to go home and find the drive.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“That is exactly what I need.”
“Ethan may be there.”
“He left the office ten minutes ago.”
Daniel stood.
“That is not reassuring.”
I looked up at him.
“If Ethan comes home and finds you searching our house with me, what do you think happens?”
His expression tightened.
“He’ll focus on me instead of the missing drive.”
“Yes.”
“And accuse us of having an affair.”
“Probably before he takes off his shoes.”
Daniel looked almost offended.
“Some things never change.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing useful.”
There it was again.
A history between them I had apparently failed to notice.
I stood.
“If you know something about Ethan that matters, tell me now.”
Daniel met my eyes.
“I know plenty of things about Ethan.”
“Relevant things.”
“I thought he resented how much people respected you.”
I waited.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“He once asked me whether I thought people would ever take him seriously if everyone kept calling him Emily Bennett’s husband.”
The words landed quietly.
“When?”
“The night of your retirement dinner.”
I stared at him.
“He was drunk.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because husbands are allowed to be insecure without their wives receiving a report.”
That was fair.
I hated that too.
Daniel added, “And because you were happy.”
My throat tightened.
“Was I?”
“You looked happy.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
“No.”
I picked up my purse.
He walked me to the door but did not follow me outside.
“Call me when you find the drive.”
“And call your doctor if that happens again.”
I gave him a look.
He lifted both hands.
“Fine.”
I drove home carefully, annoyed at Daniel, furious with Ethan, and increasingly aware that my daughter had chosen that morning to practice turning my bladder into a punching bag.
Our driveway was empty.
For the first time all day, I felt relief.
It lasted until I unlocked the front door.
Ethan’s shoes were beside the entry bench.
Not his work shoes.
His old gray sneakers.
The pair he wore when he wanted to move around the house quietly.
I stood without breathing.
Somewhere upstairs, a drawer slid shut.
Then another.
I put one hand around my phone.
“Ethan?”
Silence.
I stepped into the hallway.
His voice came from the old office at the back of the house.
“I’m in here.”
I walked toward him.
The office door was open.
Boxes that had not been touched in years covered the floor.
The filing cabinet beside the bookcase stood unlocked.
Ethan was kneeling in front of it.
He turned when I appeared.
For once, he had no prepared expression.
No irritation.
No charm.
No argument.
Only fear.
My eyes dropped to the empty bottom drawer.
The space where the encrypted drive had been stored was bare.
I looked at him.
“Tell me you found it before I did.”
Ethan looked down at the open drawer.
“I was hoping you had moved it.”
I stayed in the doorway.
“When?”
“What?”
“When were you hoping I moved it?”
He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck.
“Any time.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I came home to look for it.”
“So did I.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Why?”
I almost laughed.
“You first.”
He stood slowly.
The office was too small for the two of us now.
Boxes crowded the rug.
A stack of old tax folders leaned against the wall.
One of my framed Bennett Advisory awards lay facedown on the floor as if he had knocked it there while searching.
“I need that drive,” he said.
My stomach tightened again.
May you like
Not enough to make me stop, but enough to remind me that my body had its own argument with the day.
“For what?”
