Chapter 2
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
The restaurant noise seemed to disappear.
I stared at the ultrasound picture.
Then at the woman.
Then at my husband.
“How far along?”
My voice sounded strangely calm.
The woman swallowed.
“Eleven weeks.”
I looked at Daniel.
Eleven weeks.
I counted backward automatically.
Eleven weeks ago, Daniel and I had spent our anniversary weekend at a cabin two hours outside the city.
He had brought flowers.
He had cooked dinner.
He had kissed my stomach and told our unborn daughter that Daddy already loved her more than anything.
The next Monday, apparently, he had gone back to another woman.
“Emily,” Daniel said.
I raised my hand.
“Don’t.”
The woman’s face had changed.
The anger was leaving it.
Something else had replaced it.
Shock.
Humiliation.
Maybe even pity.
I hated that she pitied me.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Rachel.”
“Rachel, how long have you been seeing my husband?”
Daniel stepped between us.
“This isn’t helping.”
I looked around him.
“Rachel?”
Her eyes stayed on mine.
“Almost six months.”
Six months.
My daughter had been growing inside me for eight.
For six of those months, Daniel had been going home to me after touching another woman.
I suddenly remembered every late meeting.
Every shower he took immediately after coming home.
Every time he placed his phone facedown.
Every Saturday morning he claimed he needed to stop by the office.
I had trusted him so completely that the signs had looked like ordinary life.
That was the worst part.
I wasn’t stupid.
I had simply loved him.
Rachel picked up her purse.
“I didn’t know.”
Daniel grabbed her wrist.
“Rachel, wait.”
She looked down at his hand.
“Let go of me.”
He released her.
I almost laughed again.
His first instinct had been to stop her from leaving.
Not me.
Her.
That told me everything I needed to know.
I turned toward the door.
Daniel followed immediately.
“Emily.”
I kept walking.
“Emily, stop.”
I reached the sidewalk before he caught up.
He grabbed my elbow.
I spun around.
“Do not touch me.”
People entering the restaurant slowed down.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“You’re upset. You’re eight months pregnant. We need to talk somewhere private.”
“You mean somewhere no one can hear what you did?”
“It isn’t what it looks like.”
I stared at him.
“There are two pregnant women involved, Daniel. I’m pretty sure it looks exactly like what it is.”
His jaw tightened.
“I made mistakes.”
“Mistakes?”
“Yes.”
“Buying the wrong milk is a mistake.”
My voice broke.
“Getting another woman pregnant while your wife is carrying your child is a decision.”
He glanced toward the restaurant windows.
“Please.”
“Tell me one thing.”
He looked at me.
“Is her baby yours?”
His silence lasted half a second too long.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
He reached for me again.
I pointed at him.
“If you touch me, I will scream.”
“Emily—”
“Is it yours?”
He exhaled.
“I don’t know.”
I almost choked.
“You don’t know?”
“We haven’t done a test.”
“So you slept with her.”
His face tightened.
“I’m not going to discuss this in a parking lot.”
“You discussed my pregnancy with her.”
“That was complicated.”
“You told another woman my baby wasn’t yours.”
“I panicked.”
I stared at the man I had married.
Seven years.
Seven years of waking beside him.
Seven years of Christmases, birthdays, stupid arguments, inside jokes, mortgage payments, family vacations.
We had tried for almost three years to have a baby.
I had cried through two miscarriages.
He had held me in the hospital after the second one and promised that whatever happened, we would survive it together.
And now he had told his mistress that the child we had prayed for wasn’t his.
Something inside me went cold.
“You need to leave the house.”
His head jerked up.
“What?”
“When I get home, I want you gone.”
“Emily, that’s my house too.”
I stared at him.
“Then I’ll go.”
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“Watch me.”
I turned.
A sharp pain suddenly tightened across my stomach.
I stopped.
My hand flew to my belly.
Daniel’s expression changed.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Emily.”
Another pain came.
Stronger.
I bent slightly.
Daniel moved closer.
“Is it the baby?”
“I said don’t touch me.”
Rachel had come outside.
She stood several feet behind him.
“Is she okay?”
“I’m fine.”
But I wasn’t.
My breathing had changed.
My stomach tightened again.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No.”
“You could be in labor.”
“I’m thirty-four weeks.”
“That’s exactly why—”
Another cramp cut through me.
This time, I grabbed the side of a parked car.
Rachel rushed forward.
“Emily, sit down.”
I looked at her.
She seemed genuinely terrified.
That almost made everything worse.
“I can drive her,” Rachel said.
Daniel stared at her.
“No.”
Rachel snapped, “She clearly doesn’t want you touching her.”
I couldn’t believe the woman carrying my husband’s possible child was defending me against him.
My knees weakened.
Rachel caught my arm.
I didn’t have the strength to refuse.
“Hospital,” she said.
Daniel moved toward us.
“I’m coming.”
I looked straight at him.
“No.”
“Emily—”
“If you get in the car with me, I’ll get out.”
He froze.
Rachel guided me toward her SUV.
Daniel stood in the parking lot as we drove away.
Neither Rachel nor I spoke for the first five minutes.
I concentrated on breathing.
Finally she said, “I’m sorry.”
I looked out the window.
“You already said you didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
That made me turn.
She tightened her hands on the steering wheel.
“There were signs.”
“What signs?”
“He never let me come to his place.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You mean our place.”
Her face tightened.
“He said the divorce was ugly. He said you were staying there until you found somewhere else.”
“Did he show you papers?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He always had a reason.”
I looked away.
“So you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
That sentence hit me harder than expected.
Because I understood it.
Wanting to believe Daniel was something we had in common.
My phone started ringing.
His name appeared on the screen.
I silenced it.
A moment later, it rang again.
Then again.
Rachel’s phone lit up in the console.
DANIEL.
She ignored it too.
For the first time that night, I almost smiled.
At the hospital, the nurse took one look at me and rushed me into maternity triage.
Rachel stayed nearby.
I expected her to leave.
She didn’t.
After monitors were attached to my stomach, a doctor examined me.
“The good news is that your cervix is closed,” she said. “These contractions appear to be stress-related. We’re going to give you fluids and monitor the baby for a while.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is she okay?”
“Her heart rate looks good.”
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
Not because of Daniel.
Because my daughter was okay.
Nothing else mattered as much as that.
A nurse entered.
“Your husband is asking to come back.”
“No.”
She nodded without judgment.
“There’s also another woman in the waiting room. Rachel?”
I looked toward the door.
“Let her stay.”
The nurse’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
I didn’t explain.
Rachel came in a few minutes later.
She sat in the chair beside the bed.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Finally she whispered, “I ended it.”
I looked at her.
“With Daniel.”
“When?”
“In the hallway.”
I almost smiled.
“He came here?”
“He followed us.”
Of course he had.
“He tried to explain. I told him I never wanted to see him again.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“Good.”
Rachel hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
I turned my head.
She was gripping her phone.
“What?”
“When I told him I was going to talk to you, he got scared.”
“Scared how?”
“He said there were things about your marriage I didn’t understand.”
“That sounds like Daniel.”
“He also told me not to mention the money.”
My heartbeat seemed to pause.
“What money?”
Rachel looked confused.
“He said he’d already taken care of the financial situation.”
I pushed myself higher against the pillows.
“What financial situation?”
“I don’t know. I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
She hesitated.
Then she unlocked her phone.
“He transferred money to me three weeks ago.”
“How much?”
She turned the screen toward me.
I stared.
$48,000.
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“He said it was for an apartment.”
“An apartment?”
“He wanted me to move closer to his office.”
I stared at the number.
Daniel and I did not have forty-eight thousand dollars sitting around.
At least, I didn’t think we did.
We had savings.
But not that much.
Not anymore.
Unless—
My chest tightened.
I grabbed my phone and opened our joint banking app.
The password didn’t work.
I tried again.
Incorrect password.
Again.
Account temporarily locked.
Rachel watched my face.
“What is it?”
“He changed the password.”
I called my bank.
After several security questions, the representative’s voice became cautious.
“Mrs. Carter, there have been several large transfers from your joint savings account over the past three months.”
“How large?”
There was a pause.
“Approximately one hundred and seventeen thousand dollars in total.”
The room tilted.
“That’s impossible.”
“I can review them with you.”
“Our savings account didn’t have that much.”
Another pause.
“This includes funds transferred from the home equity line attached to your property.”
I stopped breathing.
“What home equity line?”
The representative hesitated.
“A line of credit was opened against the property approximately four months ago.”
“I never opened a line of credit.”
Rachel stood.
The monitor beside me started beeping faster.
The representative said, “Mrs. Carter, both borrowers are listed on the application.”
My fingers went numb.
“Both?”
“Yes. Daniel Carter and Emily Carter.”
“I never signed anything.”
Rachel stared at me.
The bank representative went silent.
Then she said carefully, “In that case, I recommend you contact our fraud department immediately.”
A knock sounded at the door.
Daniel stepped inside before anyone invited him.
His face was pale.
“Emily, we need to talk.”
I lowered the phone.
For the first time all night, I wasn’t heartbroken.
I was afraid.
Because cheating was one thing.
But someone had signed my name.
May you like
Someone had borrowed money against my home.
And the man standing in the doorway looked like he already knew I had found out.
