A
framed photograph from Daniel’s wedding sat on the living-room table.
Mark and I stood behind the bride and groom.
All four of us smiling.
I picked up the frame.
Jenna wore lace.
Daniel’s hand rested protectively at her waist.
Mark stood beside me.
His hand on my shoulder.
I studied his face.
Had it already started then?
Had Mark looked at Jenna during the ceremony and remembered where they had been together?
Had Jenna kissed my son at the altar knowing she had betrayed him with his own father?
I put the frame facedown.
Then I walked upstairs.
I didn’t pack much.
Three shirts.
Two pairs of pants.
Underwear.
Medication.
A photograph of Daniel as a baby.
My mother’s necklace.
And the folder from the back of our filing cabinet.
Insurance policies.
Bank statements.
Mortgage documents.
Retirement accounts.
Marriage certificate.
I don’t know why I grabbed them.
Instinct, perhaps.
Or
my father’s voice again.
Protect yourself before emotion makes you stupid.
When I came downstairs, the shared tablet was still on the kitchen counter.
I opened it.
Mark’s messages had disappeared.
All of them.
My heart accelerated.
He had deleted the conversation remotely.
So he knew something.
Or he was cleaning up.
I checked his email.
Password required.
Then cloud storage.
Password required.
Everything had changed.
Except one thing.
The tablet’s browser history.
Mark had forgotten about that.
I scrolled.
Restaurants.
Sports.
News.
Then—
Fairfield Inn reservation confirmation.
My pulse jumped.
I tapped it.
The page had expired, but the browser had cached part of the reservation.
Room 214.
I took a photograph.
Then another entry caught my attention.
A jewelry store.
Evelyn & Hart.
I opened it.
The history showed visits to a product page.
A diamond pendant.
$4,800.
My stomach turned.
Mark had not bought me jewelry
