Chapter 1 - Don’t React, Emily
I dropped a shopping bag and whispered, “That’s my husband.”
Margaret caught my wrist and pulled a small brass key from her black handbag.
A number had been scratched into its edge.
My husband wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
Christmas music floated through the mall as if nothing had happened.
Children laughed beside a twenty-foot Christmas tree. A man wearing a red scarf hurried past with three department-store bags. Somewhere behind me, a woman asked her husband whether they had remembered batteries.
And twenty yards away, Daniel was holding another woman’s hand.
My Daniel.
My husband of six years.
He wore the charcoal cashmere coat I had given him on our anniversary. I recognized the slight crease near the left pocket where he always shoved his phone. I recognized the silver watch on his wrist.
I even recognized the expression on his face.
He was happy.
Not polite.
Not professionally charming.
Happy.
The blonde woman beside him wore an emerald-green dress beneath an open black coat. She was younger than I expected the woman who destroyed my marriage to be.
Maybe twenty-eight.
Maybe thirty.
She leaned toward Daniel and said something.
He laughed.
Then she slipped her hand around his arm.
My stomach turned.
“Margaret.”
My mother-in-law did not answer.
“Margaret, he told me he was meeting a client.”
“I know.”
Those two words made me turn.
“What?”
Margaret’s face had gone pale.
She was staring at Daniel, but there was something strange in her expression.
Not simply shock.
Recognition.
“You know her?”
Margaret tightened her fingers around my arm.
“Emily, listen carefully.”
“I asked if you know her.”
“Not here.”
I pulled away.
Daniel still had not seen us.
Six years of marriage flashed through my head with cruel precision.
Daniel making pancakes on Sunday mornings.
Daniel asleep beside me.
Daniel kissing my forehead before leaving for work.
Daniel promising me three nights earlier that Christmas Eve would belong only to us.
And Daniel, right now, holding another woman.
I stepped forward.
Margaret caught me again.
“Don’t react, Emily.”
I stared at her.
“What do you expect me to do?”
“Watch me.”
She reached into her handbag and removed the brass key.
“Why do you have that?”
Her gaze remained on her son.
“Because I hoped I would never need it.”
She pressed the key into my palm.
The metal was cold.
“What does this open?”
“Something Daniel should have told you about years ago.”
My anger shifted.
Not disappeared.
Shifted.
“What?”
Before Margaret could answer, the blonde woman looked in our direction.
Her smile vanished.
She stopped walking.
Daniel followed her gaze.
He saw Margaret first.
Then me.
I watched the blood drain from my husband’s face.
“Emily.”
Even from twenty yards away, I saw him form my name.
The blonde woman tightened her hand around his arm.
I expected Daniel to release her.
He didn’t.
That hurt more than seeing them together.
Margaret started walking.
“Stay beside me.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m right, you’re going to need to hear what happens next.”
People moved around us.
I barely noticed them.
Daniel came toward us.
The blonde followed.
“Emily,” he said. “Wait.”
I stopped.
Margaret didn’t.
She walked directly to the blonde woman.
The woman’s face was tense.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
My heart kicked.
She knew Margaret.
Margaret looked at her for a long moment.
Then she said one word.
“Claire.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
I stared between them.
“You know each other.”
Claire looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at his mother.
Nobody looked at me.
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“Apparently I’m the only person here who doesn’t.”
“Emily,” Daniel said, “this isn’t what you think.”
I turned toward him.
“Then let go of her.”
Daniel looked down.
Claire was still holding his hand.
He slowly released it.
Too slowly.
“Who is she?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Someone from my past.”
Claire flinched.
Margaret’s expression hardened.
“Don’t insult your wife with half-truths.”
“Mom.”
“Tell her.”
“This is not the place.”
“You chose the place when you brought Claire here.”
“I didn’t bring her here.”
Claire finally spoke.
“I asked him to meet me.”
Her voice was softer than I expected.
I looked at her.
“You asked my husband to meet you secretly?”
“Yes.”
“And hold your hand?”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
I almost laughed again.
“You’re sorry?”
“Emily,” Daniel said.
“Stop saying my name like it fixes anything.”
Several shoppers had begun glancing at us.
Margaret stepped closer to Daniel.
“Does Claire know?”
His face changed.
“Mom.”
“Does she know about the key?”
Daniel stared at Margaret’s hand.
Then at mine.
He saw the brass key.
For the first time, he looked frightened.
“Where did you get that?”
Margaret ignored him.
I held it up.
“Apartment 417?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
Claire whispered, “Oh God.”
I turned to her.
“You know what it opens too?”
She looked away.
That was enough.
I shoved the key into my coat pocket.
“I’m going there.”
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“No.”
One word.
Instant.
Terrified.
Whatever waited behind that door mattered more to him than explaining why he had been holding another woman.
“Move.”
“Emily, please.”
“Move.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
He glanced around.
“I can’t.”
Margaret gave a humorless smile.
“You’ve had six years.”
Daniel turned on her.
“You promised me.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with pain.
“I promised because I believed you were going to tell her yourself.”
“Tell me what?”
Neither answered.
Claire wiped her cheek.
“Daniel, she deserves to know.”
He looked at her sharply.
“You said you wouldn’t do this.”
“I said I wouldn’t destroy your marriage.”
“You think this helps?”
Claire’s face twisted.
“You think I wanted any of this?”
I stared at them.
There was history between them.
Deep history.
But something about it didn’t resemble an affair.
Not entirely.
Claire looked frightened of Daniel’s secret, not possessive of him.
Margaret touched my shoulder.
“Emily, go home.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“You just handed me a key.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me where apartment 417 is.”
Daniel stepped toward his mother.
“Don’t.”
Margaret met his eyes.
“You lost the right to ask me that when Emily saw you today.”
He whispered, “Mom.”
Margaret turned to me.
“Lakeview Towers. North Sheridan Road.”
Daniel’s face collapsed.
I took out my phone.
He reached for it.
I stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
His hand fell.
I ordered a car.
Three minutes away.
Claire was crying silently now.
I looked at her.
“Are you sleeping with my husband?”
“No.”
Her answer came instantly.
I looked at Daniel.
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever?”
Silence.
Claire closed her eyes.
Daniel said nothing.
There it was.
The first answer hidden inside a silence.
“When?”
“Before you.”
“How long before me?”
“Emily—”
“How long?”
Claire answered.
“Seven years.”
Seven years.
Daniel and I had met seven years ago.
My mouth went dry.
Margaret whispered, “Claire.”
But it was too late.
I looked at my husband.
“You were with her when you met me?”
Daniel shook his head.
“It’s complicated.”
“It always becomes complicated after somebody gets caught.”
My phone vibrated.
My car had arrived.
I turned.
Daniel followed.
“Emily, do not go to that apartment alone.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
He looked genuinely afraid.
Not for himself.
For me.
That scared me more than anything else.
“Daniel?”
He lowered his voice.
“Because there are things inside that apartment you can’t unsee.”
I walked away anyway.
Margaret followed.
Behind us, Claire called Daniel’s name.
I didn’t turn around.
Outside, snow had begun dusting Michigan Avenue.
Margaret climbed into the car beside me.
For ten minutes neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?”
“For helping my son keep a secret.”
I stared out the window.
“How bad is it?”
Margaret clasped her hands.
“Bad enough that I nearly told you on your wedding day.”
I turned.
“What stopped you?”
“Daniel.”
The car slowed.
Lakeview Towers rose ahead.
My heart pounded.
Margaret looked at me.
“Emily, before you open that door, you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Claire is not the person you should be afraid of.”
The car stopped.
We entered the building.
The elevator carried us upward.
Four.
The doors opened.
Apartment 417 waited at the end of the hall.
I inserted the brass key.
Margaret whispered my name.
I turned it.
The lock clicked.
May you like
Then we heard footsteps on the other side.
Someone was already inside.
