Not broken.
Not yet rebuilt.
Just awake.
My phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Gerald.
“I’m sending you a copy of the access log,” he said. “Jack opened the first file. His attorney opened it ninety seconds later.”
“He called his attorney that fast?”
“He didn’t have to. The alert went automatically. Your instructions were thorough.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course they were.
Back then, when I wrote them, I felt foolish. I remembered sitting alone at the kitchen island at two in the morning while Jack slept upstairs after another unexplained late night. I had created the sealed file with shaking hands, ashamed of myself for suspecting my own husband.
But some quieter part of me had known.
“What exactly was in that first file?” I asked.
“Time-stamped hospital schedule discrepancies. Expense records linked to conference trips that were never booked through the medical association. Copies of messages you saved from the old tablet. Nothing inflammatory. Nothing speculative. Just documentation.”
I nodded though he couldn’t see me.
“And the next upload?”
Gerald hesitated. “Are you sure you want to continue?”
I looked back toward the airline counter.
Jack had moved away from Vanessa and Carol. He was pacing now, phone pressed to his ear. Ashley stood with the kids, trying to look normal and failing. Vanessa looked angry, but beneath that anger, I saw something else.
Confusion.
A cold little thought settled in my mind.
What if she didn’t know everything either?
“Pause the second upload,” I said.
Gerald went silent.
“Megan?”
“Pause it.”
A few keyboard clicks followed. “Done.”
I watched Vanessa speak to Jack. He shook his head sharply. She took a step back.
There was a story there.
Maybe not an innocent one. Maybe not one that excused her. But something in her expression told me she was not as certain as she had been minutes ago.
“Gerald,” I said, “I need you to do one more thing.”
“Anything.”
“Find out who she is.”
“The woman?”
“Yes.”
“I can start with the flight records if you send me the destination.”
I looked down at the departure board near their counter.
Cancún. 4:20 p.m.
A family vacation to Mexico.
The kind Jack always said we were too busy for.
“Cancún,” I said.
“Got it.”
I ended the call and finally answered Jack’s next call.
He didn’t wait for me to speak.
“Megan, listen to me. Please. Just listen.”
“I’m listening.”
He paused, as though he hadn’t expected that.
“I made a mistake.”
I looked down at him. “Which one?”
His silence answered better than words.
“Was the mistake lying about surgery?” I asked. “Or bringing another woman on a family vacation? Or letting your mother and sister stand there like I was already gone?”
“Megan—”
“Or was the mistake getting caught?”
He lowered his voice. “This is not the place.”
“That’s the first true thing you’ve said today.”
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“I’ll come with you.”
I watched him glance back at his family. Vanessa stared at him, waiting. Carol’s face hardened.
