Chapter 2
Ryan stared at the ultrasound picture.
He looked like a man standing at the edge of a roof.
One step either way and everything would collapse.
I looked at Vanessa.
Then at the black-and-white image in her hand.
My mouth went dry.
“You’re pregnant?”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I slowly turned toward Ryan.
He looked away.
“How far?”
Vanessa answered.
“Fourteen weeks.”
The number hit me harder than the discovery itself.
Fourteen weeks.
I had been six months pregnant when their child was conceived.
Ryan had been rubbing lotion on my stomach at night.
Talking about baby names.
Building our daughter’s crib.
Then leaving my bed and going to another woman.
I felt something inside me go completely cold.
“Fourteen weeks,” I repeated.
Ryan stepped closer.
“Emily, please.”
“Don’t.”
My voice shook.
“Do not touch me.”
People were still staring.
A mother pulled her teenage daughter away.
A couple beside the food court stopped pretending not to listen.
Ryan glanced around.
“Can we go somewhere private?”
I almost laughed.
“You were holding her hand in public.”
“Emily.”
“You kissed her in public.”
“I know.”
“You bought baby clothes with her in public.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Then you can answer me in public.”
Vanessa looked between us.
She seemed furious now.
Not at me.
At him.
“What did you tell her about me?”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“Vanessa.”
“No.”
She stepped away from him.
“You told me your marriage was finished.”
“It is complicated.”
“You told me Emily had another man.”
My head snapped toward him.
“What?”
Ryan stared at the floor.
Vanessa continued.
“You said you found out this baby wasn’t yours.”
My hands automatically covered my stomach.
My daughter moved inside me.
Strong.
Alive.
Completely innocent.
“Ryan told you I cheated?”
“Yes.”
“I have never cheated on him.”
Vanessa’s face drained.
Ryan finally looked at me.
“I never said you definitely cheated.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You showed me a DNA report.”
The mall seemed to disappear around me.
I heard only one thing.
“DNA report?”
Ryan’s face changed again.
Vanessa reached into her purse.
Ryan moved quickly.
“Don’t.”
She jerked the purse away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Then she pulled out her phone.
She scrolled.
Turned the screen toward me.
It was a photograph of a document.
A prenatal paternity test.
My name.
Ryan’s name.
A result claiming there was zero probability that Ryan was the biological father of my unborn daughter.
I stared at it.
My legs felt weak.
“That test never happened.”
Vanessa looked at him.
Ryan said nothing.
“I never gave blood.”
Still nothing.
“I never agreed to a prenatal DNA test.”
My voice rose.
“Where did this come from?”
Ryan reached for the phone.
Vanessa moved away.
“Answer her.”
“Not here.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You lied to both of us.”
A security guard approached.
“Is everything okay?”
“No,” I said.
Ryan said at the same time, “Yes.”
The guard looked at me.
I realized my breathing was too fast.
My stomach tightened.
A contraction.
Not strong.
But enough to frighten me.
I grabbed the nearest railing.
Vanessa’s anger disappeared.
“Are you okay?”
Ryan moved toward me.
“Emily?”
“Stay away.”
Another tightening came.
I closed my eyes.
I had experienced Braxton Hicks contractions before.
My doctor told me stress could make them worse.
But suddenly I was terrified.
Ryan reached again.
I pulled back so quickly that the security guard stepped between us.
“She asked you not to touch her.”
Ryan looked furious.
“That’s my wife.”
“And she still said no.”
Vanessa whispered, “She needs to sit down.”
I hated agreeing with her.
But she was right.
The security guard guided me toward a bench.
A woman from a nearby store brought me water.
Ryan stood several feet away.
Vanessa stayed even farther.
I called my sister, Rachel.
She answered.
“Hey, pregnant lady.”
I started crying.
Her voice changed immediately.
“Emily?”
“Can you come get me?”
“Where?”
“The mall.”
“What happened?”
I looked at Ryan.
He watched me.
“Ryan happened.”
Rachel was silent.
Then she said, “I’m leaving now.”
I hung up.
Ryan stepped closer.
“Please let me drive you home.”
“No.”
“Emily, you’re eight months pregnant.”
“I was eight months pregnant when you walked into a baby store with your pregnant mistress.”
Vanessa flinched.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“I’m still your husband.”
“That is currently the worst argument you could make.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why were you buying clothes today?”
She swallowed.
“We were supposed to find out the sex next week.”
“Then why today?”
Her eyes moved toward Ryan.
“He said he wanted to surprise me.”
“With what?”
“A nursery.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
Vanessa answered.
“At the townhouse.”
My stomach tightened again.
“What townhouse?”
Ryan closed his eyes.
Vanessa looked confused.
“You don’t know?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Ryan.”
He said nothing.
“What townhouse?”
Her voice was sharper now.
“The one in Cambridge.”
I stared.
Ryan and I lived outside Boston.
We owned one home.
At least I thought we did.
“What townhouse in Cambridge?”
Ryan finally spoke.
“It’s a rental.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“You told me you bought it.”
My mouth fell open.
He turned on her.
“Stop talking.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
Something shifted in her face.
The same thing had shifted in mine minutes earlier.
The moment a woman realizes the man she trusted has been controlling the story.
She looked at me.
“He said it was going to be ours.”
My stomach dropped.
“Ours?”
“Him, me, and the baby.”
I looked at the shopping bags.
Tiny blankets.
A stuffed rabbit.
A package of newborn onesies.
All bought by my husband.
For another baby.
I stood slowly.
Ryan said, “Sit down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Emily, I know you’re angry.”
“You know nothing about what I am.”
His face hardened.
“You always do this.”
I stared.
“Do what?”
“Turn everything into a public performance.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Are you serious?”
He looked at her.
“You stay out of this.”
She stepped closer.
“You brought me into it.”
“Vanessa.”
“You told me she was manipulating you.”
My chest tightened.
“What else did he tell you?”
Ryan snapped, “Enough.”
I ignored him.
“Tell me.”
Vanessa hesitated.
Then she said, “He told me you were refusing a divorce because of money.”
I almost couldn’t process the lie fast enough.
“What money?”
“His inheritance.”
I turned toward Ryan.
“You don’t have an inheritance.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened.
“What?”
Ryan’s father was alive.
His mother was alive.
Neither was wealthy.
I laughed once.
It sounded almost hysterical.
“He doesn’t have an inheritance.”
Ryan’s jaw tightened.
“I said future inheritance.”
“No, you didn’t,” Vanessa said.
“You said your father left you three million dollars.”
I stared at him.
Ryan suddenly looked afraid.
Not embarrassed.
Afraid.
That difference mattered.
“Why would you tell her that?”
He said nothing.
Vanessa stepped toward him.
“You said the money was tied up in your marriage.”
“What marriage has to do with your father’s imaginary death?”
Ryan snapped, “Both of you need to stop.”
“No.”
I looked directly at my husband.
“You lied about a DNA test.”
His nostrils flared.
“You invented an affair.”
Silence.
“You invented an inheritance.”
Silence.
“And apparently you either rented or bought a townhouse I know nothing about.”
His eyes shifted.
I caught it.
“Bought.”
He looked back at me.
“What?”
“You bought it.”
“No.”
“You looked away.”
“Emily, you’re being ridiculous.”
Vanessa shook her head slowly.
“He bought it.”
Ryan turned on her.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You showed me the closing photo.”
My pulse jumped.
“What closing photo?”
Vanessa held up her phone.
A picture of Ryan standing in front of a red-brick townhouse holding a key.
He was smiling.
The date was six weeks earlier.
He had told me that day he was in Providence for work.
I remembered because my back hurt and I asked him to come home early.
He said he couldn’t.
I stared at the photo.
“Where did the money come from?”
Ryan went silent.
That scared me more than every lie so far.
Our savings?
A loan?
Our home?
I reached for my phone.
He suddenly moved closer.
“Emily, don’t.”
I stepped back.
“Why?”
“Because you’re upset.”
“I’m checking our bank.”
“Not here.”
I opened the banking app.
The password didn’t work.
I tried again.
Incorrect.
My heart started pounding.
“You changed the password.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“It probably expired.”
“Bank passwords don’t just expire without notice.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Emily.”
I selected reset password.
The verification email had been changed.
The phone number still belonged to me.
I requested a code.
Ryan stared at me.
“Stop.”
That one word told me everything.
I entered the code.
Opened our savings.
My stomach dropped.
Our balance had been almost $190,000 two months earlier.
Now there was $42,317.
I stared at the screen.
“What did you do?”
Ryan looked away.
“What did you do with our money?”
Vanessa’s face changed.
She whispered, “The townhouse.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“He said he put a hundred thousand down.”
My knees nearly buckled.
Ryan grabbed my elbow.
This time I was too shocked to pull away.
“You used our savings to buy a house for your mistress?”
“It’s an investment.”
Vanessa laughed.
“You put my name on the mailbox.”
I stared at her.
“Is your name on the deed?”
She looked at Ryan.
“I don’t know.”
“You said you bought it together.”
“He said the paperwork was complicated because of the divorce.”
I looked at Ryan.
“We are not getting divorced.”
“Not yet.”
The words came out before he could stop them.
Silence.
My throat tightened.
“What did you say?”
He looked trapped.
“Emily.”
“You planned to divorce me.”
He exhaled.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Simple.
Cold.
“Yes.”
My daughter kicked inside me.
I put one hand on my stomach.
“How long?”
“Months.”
“How many?”
“Six.”
Vanessa looked at him.
“You told me eight.”
He closed his eyes.
Even his affair had separate timelines.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Then Rachel appeared at the end of the corridor.
She was walking fast.
The second she saw Ryan with Vanessa, her face changed.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
“Rachel,” Ryan warned.
She ignored him and came straight to me.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Are you having contractions?”
“A few.”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“I’m coming.”
“No, you’re not,” Rachel said.
“I’m her husband.”
Rachel looked at Vanessa.
“Apparently part-time.”
“Rachel.”
“Do not say my name like we’re friends.”
She picked up the grocery bags I had dropped.
Then she looked at Vanessa.
“I don’t know what he told you, but if you’re smart, you’ll start checking every word.”
Vanessa’s eyes filled.
“I already am.”
We began walking away.
Ryan followed.
“Emily, please.”
I stopped.
Turned around.
For the first time, he looked scared of losing me.
A day earlier, that might have mattered.
Now it didn’t.
“Do not come to the hospital.”
“Emily.”
“Do not come home tonight.”
“That is my house too.”
“And apparently not your only one.”
His face hardened.
“Don’t make decisions while you’re emotional.”
I stared at him.
“You made decisions while I was trusting you.”
He had no answer.
Rachel took my arm.
We left.
Inside her car, I finally let myself cry.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Rachel drove.
One hand on the wheel.
The other reaching toward me whenever we stopped.
At the hospital, they monitored the baby.
Everything looked okay.
The contractions slowed.
My blood pressure was elevated but not dangerous.
The doctor told me to rest.
Avoid stress.
Rachel laughed so bitterly that even the nurse smiled.
“Sure,” she said. “We’ll just turn off the cheating husband.”
I lay in the bed with monitors around my stomach.
My phone buzzed continuously.
Ryan.
Ryan.
Ryan.
Then Vanessa.
I ignored them.
At 9:17 p.m., Vanessa sent one message that made me sit upright.
EMILY, I FOUND SOMETHING IN THE TOWNHOUSE.
I stared.
Another message appeared.
IT HAS YOUR NAME ON IT.
My heart pounded.
I typed back.
WHAT?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
A FILE.
WHAT FILE?
Her answer came thirty seconds later.
DIVORCE PAPERS.
I closed my eyes.
Then another message arrived.
May you like
But that wasn’t the message that terrified me.
THIS COPY SAYS YOU ALREADY SIGNED THEM.
