A chill crept up from the soles of my feet and settled deep in my bones. I asked my final question.
“What are your exact requirements for the separation? Is it just that the wife has to be the one to file for divorce?”
Jenna shook her head. “Of course not. And most importantly, you can’t let her find out he was cheating. I know people think he
married into money, but he’s worked so hard to build his own career. He’s been through so much. If she finds out he had an affair,
she’ll never let go. She’ll destroy him.”
I flexed my fingers, saying nothing.
She wasn’t reassured. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, repeating her instructions. Finally, she sat back. “Ms. Thor-
ne, I know you’re the best breakup specialist in the city. I’m counting on you and my boyfriend to handle this.”
I nodded, a practiced smile fixed on my face. “Don’t worry.”
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone. I didn’t call Andrew. I called my oldest friend.
“Get me the best Pl and the best lawyer from your firm. I want a complete rundown of Andrew Cole’s life for the past three years.
Everything.” I took a breath. “And while you’re at it, give my father a call. Tell him Andrew’s cheating. It’s time to pull our family’s
investments.”
I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my skin.
“Let’s see what he has left when he’s standing on his own.”
My friend, my most trusted partner, was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, a 128–gigabyte flash drive landed on my
desk.
“It’s all in there,” he said. “Brace yourself.”
I slid the drive into my laptop. Click.
The first video opened. A high–end restaurant, bathed in soft, golden light. Andrew, dapper in a black designer suit, presented a
massive bouquet of 9,999 imported roses to the woman across from him. Jenna.
Three months ago, for my birthday, Andrew claimed he was swamped at work. He came home with a single, sad–looking rose he’d
bought from a street vendor for five bucks.
The next file was security footage from a luxury department store. Andrew’s arm was wrapped possessively around Jenna’s waist
as they shopped. Designer clothes, fine jewelry… shopping bags piled up at her feet like a monument to his affection.
A small stuffed animal, a free gift from the cashier at checkout, was the same one he’d brought home for our daughter Lily’s birth-
day.
Expressionless, I closed the file and opened the next.
Three years of Andrew’s bank statements.
Massive sums of money bounced between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final desti-
nation for it all was a private account ending in 7761.
The account holder: Jenna Bird.
He’d been funneling money to her under the guise of “consulting fees,” quietly siphoning off our assets. Did he really think I was
0955
09:57
Chapter 1
that stupid? That I wouldn’t notice?
The cold in my heart felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. I clicked on the next file.
It was a folder of screenshots. Text messages between Jenna and Lily’s preschool teacher.
Posing as “Lily’s Mom,” Jenna had been relentlessly asking about my daughter’s daily life–what she ate, when she napped, who her friends were. She had even arranged with Andrew to attend the next parent–teacher conference together, as a couple,
My hand clenched the mouse so tightly my knuckles cracked. It wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was a white–hot, protective rage!
He had dragged our daughter into his sordid affair.
I remembered when Lily was born, how he was the one who got up for every 2 a.m. feeding, rocking her back to sleep. He promised me that no matter what, she would always be our little princess, always loved, always protected.
Even this morning, when Jenna,had nonchalantly mentioned becoming Lily’s new mother, a small, foolish part of me had felt a
flicker of relief. At least Andrew still cared about his child. At least he wouldn’t hurt her in a divorce.
Now, I felt like a gaping wound had been torn open in my chest, with an icy wind howling through it.
I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying, ready to send him a furious message, to warn him to stay the hell
away from my daughter.
But before I could, a notification popped up. A message from Jenna.
She’d sent me a selfie, a mirror shot of her in a new dress. The text read: Ms. Thorne, what do you think of this outfit? My boyfriend
is taking me and his daughter to meet his parents tonight! I’m so nervous!
At the exact same moment, a text from Andrew appeared.
Hey honey, my parents are missing Lily. I’m going to take her over to their place for dinner tonight.
It was followed by a second message. You’ve been working so hard. I bought you a movie ticket for tonight. Go relax and enjoy
yourself.
He’d even attached a picture of Lily smiling, taken just moments ago as she left preschool.
Looking at my daughter’s innocent, trusting face, a slow, dangerous smile spread across my own.
