Chapter 2 - The Woman in Scottsdale
The room went silent.
Ethan froze.
Claire moved closer to me.
I looked at the message again.
You promised your wife would never find out about us.
“Who is Melissa?”
Ethan swallowed.
“Give me my phone.”
“Who is Melissa?”
“Rachel.”
“Answer me.”
Claire stepped between Ethan and the console table.
“You might want to think very carefully before you lie.”
Ethan glared at her.
“This isn't your marriage.”
“No,” Claire said. “It's my sister's.”
I held up the phone.
“Who is she?”
“A business contact.”
I almost laughed.
“Business contacts usually worry about wives discovering them?”
“You don't understand the context.”
“Then explain it.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
For the first time since returning, he looked tired rather than angry.
“Melissa works with Daniel Reeves.”
“Who?”
“One of our investors.”
“What does that have to do with Scottsdale?”
“We're putting together a property deal.”
“And the twenty-five thousand?”
“Deposit.”
“You transferred twenty-five thousand dollars of our money into a property deal without asking me?”
“It was temporary.”
“Our money.”
“I was going to replace it.”
“When?”
“After closing.”
“What property?”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
“Show me.”
“What?”
“The paperwork.”
“I don't have it here.”
“Email?”
“Rachel—”
“Show me.”
He didn't.
Lily began crying from the bedroom.
Every instinct in my body shifted toward her.
I handed Ethan's phone back.
“Claire.”
“I've got him.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
I went to Lily.
When I returned twenty minutes later, Ethan was sitting at the kitchen table.
Claire stood by the counter.
The separation papers were between them.
“I called Naomi,” Claire said.
Ethan looked furious.
“You called her attorney?”
“My attorney,” I corrected.
“This is insane.”
“No. Leaving your wife on her due date and transferring twenty-five thousand dollars without telling her is insane.”
“I didn't know you'd actually go into labor.”
“It was my due date.”
“That doesn't mean—”
“Stop.”
He stopped.
I sat opposite him.
“I'm going to ask once. Did you have an affair?”
“No.”
“Did you sleep with Melissa?”
“No.”
“Did you kiss her?”
His eyes shifted.
There it was.
“Ethan.”
“It happened once.”
Claire cursed under her breath.
I felt strangely calm.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
I was seven months pregnant.
“Where?”
“Phoenix.”
“Was that another business trip?”
“Yes.”
I nodded.
The calmness frightened even me.
“Did it happen again?”
“No.”
“Then why did she think I wasn't supposed to find out about ‘us’?”
“Because she wanted more.”
“And you went to Scottsdale to tell her no?”
“Partly.”
“Partly?”
“The investment is real.”
“Prove it.”
He opened his laptop.
Ten minutes later, I was looking at documents for a small commercial property outside Scottsdale.
Daniel Reeves.
Ethan Carter.
And a third investor.
Melissa Grant.
The twenty-five thousand dollars was listed as earnest money.
“So the investment exists,” I said.
“Yes.”
“That doesn't explain why you hid it.”
“I knew you'd say no.”
“You mean while we were preparing for a baby, I might object to you secretly risking twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“I was trying to build something for us.”
“No. You were doing something for yourself and calling it ‘us’ afterward.”
His face tightened.
I looked at the investor agreement.
Something bothered me.
“Why is your contribution fifty thousand?”
Ethan didn't answer.
I pointed to the page.
“You transferred twenty-five.”
Claire leaned over my shoulder.
“Where's the other twenty-five?”
Ethan closed the laptop.
“Enough.”
“No.”
“Rachel, you've just had a baby.”
“Don't use that to dismiss me.”
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
He stood.
“I'll stay at a hotel tonight.”
“Good.”
His expression changed.
He hadn't expected agreement.
“I'll come tomorrow to see Lily.”
“No.”
“What?”
“You don't walk out, miss her birth, return screaming, and suddenly decide the schedule.”
“She's my daughter.”
“And you'll have access through an arrangement we agree on.”
His eyes filled with anger.
Then hurt.
For a second, I saw the man I'd married.
That almost broke me.
Almost.
“I love her,” he whispered.
“You didn't even ask if she was healthy.”
He looked down.
That landed.
Ethan left fifteen minutes later.
Afterward, Claire poured me water.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Good answer.”
I laughed weakly.
Then I cried.
The next morning, Naomi came over.
She reviewed the investment documents.
“This agreement is real,” she said.
“But?”
“But your husband's contribution is fifty thousand dollars.”
“We know.”
“Do you know where the other half came from?”
“No.”
Naomi turned her laptop toward me.
“I requested historical statements under the joint-account protections you signed.”
She highlighted several transfers.
Small amounts.
$2,500.
$4,000.
$3,750.
Spread over six months.
Total:
$25,000.
“He's been moving money for months,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“To where?”
“A personal account.”
“His?”
“We don't know yet.”
My phone rang.
Margaret.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“I need to see you.”
“Why?”
“Without Ethan.”
I looked at Naomi.
“About what?”
Margaret's voice lowered.
“The money.”
I stopped breathing.
“You knew?”
“I knew some of it.”
“Then tell me now.”
“I can't do this over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because Ethan wasn't the one who started it.”
A knock sounded at the front door.
Claire looked through the peephole.
Her face changed.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
She stepped back.
Margaret was standing outside.
And she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood a woman I'd never seen before.
A woman about my age.
A woman holding a baby photograph.
She raised it toward the glass.
May you like
On the back, someone had written one name.
ETHAN.
