Chương 6
"Emily."
I walked away before I could find out.
At lunch, Rachel called.
"I found something," she said.
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Your husband did take out a life insurance policy."
I closed my office door.
"How long ago?"
"Six years."
I sat down.
Six years.
The same year Mark's company first started struggling.
The same year he began telling me things were temporary.
"Who is the beneficiary?"
There was a pause.
"Emily."
I let out a breath I had not realized I was holding.
"That's good, right?"
"Not necessarily."
The answer made me uncomfortable.
"What do you mean?"
"Because the policy itself is not automatically suspicious."
I nodded even though she could not see me.
"Then what is?"
"The timing."
I waited.
"Your husband purchased a large policy on you six years ago."
"Yes."
"Then two years later, he purchased another policy."
"On himself?"
"No."
I felt my chest tighten.
"On who?"
Rachel's voice lowered.
"Vanessa Reed."
I closed my eyes.
The office suddenly felt too bright.
"Why would he insure his mistress?"
"That's what we need to find out."
The word mistress still felt strange.
Like something from a television show.
Not something that belonged to my kitchen table.
Not something that belonged to my husband.
"What else?"
Rachel hesitated.
"Emily, I need you to understand something."
I hated that sentence.
It always meant the next thing would hurt.
"What?"
"There are financial transfers between Mark and Vanessa."
"How much?"
"Approximately two hundred thousand dollars."
I looked out the window.
People walked between buildings carrying lunches and coffee.
Someone laughed near the elevator.
A printer hummed somewhere down the hallway.
Normal life continued.
"Where did the money come from?"
"We're still tracing it."
"But?"
"But some of it appears to have come from your joint accounts."
My hand covered my mouth.
For a few seconds, I could not speak.
The betrayal had layers.
Every time I thought I had reached the bottom, there was another floor underneath.
"I need to know what I'm dealing with," I said.
"You need documents."
"I have some."
"Not enough."
I opened the drawer in my desk where I had started keeping copies.
"I can get more."
"Be careful."
The way she said it bothered me.
"Rachel."
"Emily, people like Mark often leave traces because they believe nobody will ever look."
The word "people" stood out.
Not husbands.
Not cheaters.
People.
"He has spent years building a version of reality where he is the person who saves you from your own fears."
I looked at my wedding photo sitting beside my computer.
"We have to find out what happens when that version falls apart."
That evening, I stopped at my sister's house.
Laura opened the door wearing an old sweatshirt and holding a wooden spoon.
"You look terrible."
I almost laughed.
It was the most normal thing anyone had said to me all week.
"Nice to see you too."
She stepped aside.
"I mean emotionally terrible."
"I figured."
She hugged me before I could prepare for it.
Laura had always been direct.
It was one of the reasons I loved her.
She never knew how to pretend.
After we sat at her kitchen table, I told her everything.
Not every detail.
Not yet.
Some truths were too heavy to say all at once.
When I finished, she stared at her coffee.
"I knew something was wrong."
I looked up.
"You did?"
"Not this."
She shook her head.
"But something."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She looked embarrassed.
"Because every time I tried, you defended him."
The answer hurt because it was true.
"I thought you didn't like him."
"I didn't."
I raised an eyebrow.
She sighed.
"I liked who he was when you were happy."
That sentence stayed with me.
Because maybe that was the hardest part.
I did not miss the man who had betrayed me.
I missed the man I believed existed.
Laura reached across the table.
"What are you going to do?"
I looked at my sister.
At the person who had known me before Mark.
Before marriage.
Before years of making myself smaller to keep someone else comfortable.
"I don't know."
And for once, I allowed myself not to have an answer.
That night, when I returned home, Mark was sitting in the dark living room.
The television was off.
He looked up when I entered.
"Where were you?"
The question sounded simple.
But I heard something underneath it.
Fear.
"I visited Laura."
He nodded.
"Your sister doesn't like me."
I removed my coat.
"Why do you think that?"
"Because she never has."
I almost responded.
Almost defended him.
The habit rose automatically.
Then I stopped.
Mark noticed.
"You were going to say something."
"No."
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said quietly.
"Someone has been talking to you."
The room went still.
I did not move.
I did not answer.
And that was when I saw it.
The confidence disappear from his face.
Because for the first time, Mark was not looking at a wife who trusted him.
He was looking at someone he could no longer predict.
"Someone has been talking to you."
The sentence stayed between us.
I looked at Mark standing in the living room, and for the first time in years, I saw something I had never expected to see.
Fear.
Not the fear of losing me.
Not the fear of losing our marriage.
The fear of losing control.
"Why would you say that?" I asked.
His expression shifted back into concern so quickly that if I had not been watching closely, I would have missed it.
"I just know you."
"No," I said quietly.
The word surprised both of us.
"No?"
"You know the version of me that never questioned you."
The silence afterward felt heavier than any argument we had ever had.
Mark looked away first.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I almost admired the confidence.
Almost.
"You don't?"
May you like
He sighed.
"Emily, you've been under a lot of stress."
