Chapter 3
I called my mother from the parking garage.
She answered on the second ring.
“Emily?”
“Did you know?”
Silence.
No confusion.
No question.
Just silence.
That told me everything.
I leaned against my car.
“Mom.”
“Where are you?”
“Did you know Daniel slept with Rachel?”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“Emily, you shouldn’t be driving if you’re upset.”
I felt my whole body go numb.
“You knew.”
“Come to my house.”
“How long?”
“Please.”
“How long?”
My voice echoed through the concrete garage.
“Emily.”
“Seven years?”
She started crying.
I closed my eyes.
“Oh my God.”
“It wasn’t what you think.”
I laughed.
Everyone had suddenly decided that sentence could erase reality.
“What exactly do I think, Mom?”
“Rachel was in a terrible place.”
“So she slept with my husband?”
“She and Marcus had broken up. She was drinking too much. She was depressed.”
“And Daniel?”
“Daniel should have known better.”
“He was thirty-four.”
“I know.”
“He was married to me.”
“I know.”
“And you found out.”
She sniffed.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After Noah was born.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“How?”
“Rachel told me.”
“Why?”
“She was scared.”
“About what?”
My mother stopped crying.
That silence returned.
I whispered, “She didn’t know who Noah’s father was.”
“Emily—”
“She didn’t.”
“She believed Marcus was.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No.”
One word.
One brutal word.
I opened the car door and sat down because my legs couldn’t hold me anymore.
“She didn’t know.”
“Not for certain.”
“And you never told me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From my own life?”
“You and Daniel were finally happy again.”
I stared at the windshield.
Seven years earlier, Daniel and I had been trying to have a baby.
For two years.
Doctor visits.
Tests.
Hormone injections.
One miscarriage.
Then another.
Rachel had lived under our roof during the worst of it.
She knew.
My mother knew.
Daniel knew.
And while I had been grieving babies I couldn’t keep, my husband may have gotten my sister pregnant.
I covered my mouth.
A sound came out anyway.
My mother started talking quickly.
“Emily, listen to me. Rachel regretted it immediately. Daniel did too.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“Because he told you?”
“Rachel said—”
“Did Daniel ever tell you himself?”
“No.”
“Then you protected a man who never even confessed.”
“I protected this family.”
“No.”
My voice became cold.
“You protected a secret.”
I hung up.
My phone immediately rang again.
Mom.
I declined it.
Then Rachel called.
I stared at her name.
Daniel had warned her.
Or Mom had.
Maybe both.
I answered.
Rachel was crying.
“Em.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Is Daniel Noah’s father?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you ever done a DNA test?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You already lost me.”
“Please don’t say that.”
“What would you like me to say?”
“I made a horrible mistake.”
“A mistake is forgetting someone’s birthday.”
“I know.”
“You slept with my husband.”
“One time.”
I shut my eyes.
There it was again.
Once.
As though betrayal had a minimum number required before it counted.
“Where?”
Rachel said nothing.
“Where did you sleep with him?”
“Emily, please.”
“In my house?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“My apartment.”
The apartment Daniel had helped her find.
Of course.
“When?”
She whispered the date.
I remembered it immediately.
I had been in Milwaukee helping Mom after knee surgery.
Daniel had called me that night.
He had told me he missed me.
I had slept with the phone beside my pillow.
“Did you love him?”
“No.”
“Did he love you?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
“We were both upset.”
“About what?”
She hesitated.
I already knew I would hate the answer.
“You.”
I stopped breathing.
“What about me?”
“Daniel said he felt invisible.”
I almost dropped the phone.
“He said everything in the marriage was about doctors and treatments and whether you could get pregnant.”
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
I stared at my own reflection in the windshield.
My sister continued crying.
“He was drunk.”
“And you?”
“Yes.”
“So while I was having fertility treatments, my husband complained to my sister that my infertility was inconvenient.”
“No.”
“And you comforted him by sleeping with him.”
“It wasn’t planned.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
“I hated myself afterward.”
“Did you hate yourself when you let him hold Noah?”
Rachel went silent.
“Did you hate yourself at Noah’s first birthday?”
“Emily.”
“At Christmas?”
“Stop.”
“When Daniel coached his soccer team last year?”
“Stop!”
Her scream shocked me.
Then she started sobbing.
“I wanted to tell you a thousand times.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Because you didn’t want to lose me?”
“Yes.”
“No, Rachel. Because you didn’t want to deal with what you did.”
She cried harder.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then another thought hit me.
“Does Marcus know?”
“No.”
“Does Noah think Marcus is his father?”
“Yes.”
Marcus had returned when Noah was three.
Not consistently.
But enough that Noah knew him.
Birthdays.
Some weekends.
Phone calls.
Rachel always complained Marcus wasn’t reliable.
Now I wondered what Marcus knew.
“Did you ever tell Marcus there was a possibility Noah wasn’t his?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Four adults.
One child.
And apparently everyone had decided lying was easier.
“Rachel, I want a DNA test.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“No.”
My eyes opened.
“What did you say?”
“I said no.”
For the first time that night, anger burned hotter than pain.
“That boy deserves to know who his father is.”
“He has a father.”
“Does he?”
“Marcus is his father.”
“You just told me you don’t know that.”
“He’s the only father Noah knows.”
“Daniel has been around him his entire life.”
“As his uncle.”
“Maybe because all of you lied.”
Rachel’s voice changed.
“Don’t use my son to punish Daniel.”
I sat straight up.
“Punish Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“You think this is revenge?”
“I think you just found out your husband cheated and you want to destroy him.”
I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You slept with my husband, hid possible paternity for seven years, and now you’re accusing me of destroying people?”
“I’m protecting Noah.”
“No. You are protecting yourself.”
She hung up.
I stared at my phone.
Then I noticed Ashley had sent twelve screenshots.
I opened the first.
It was a conversation between Daniel and Rachel from six years earlier.
Daniel: Did your mom say anything?
Rachel: No. She promised she won’t tell Emily.
Daniel: Good.
My stomach turned.
Next screenshot.
Rachel: Sometimes I look at Noah and see you.
Daniel: Don’t say that.
Rachel: You’ve wondered too.
Daniel: It changes nothing.
Rachel: For you maybe.
I stopped.
There were more.
Rachel: If we test him, Emily will find out.
Daniel: Then we don’t test him.
Rachel: What if he needs medical information one day?
Daniel: Marcus is on the birth certificate. Leave it alone.
I put the phone down.
My husband had known there was a real possibility.
He had actively chosen not to find out.
Not for Noah.
For himself.
Another screenshot.
This one was only two years old.
Daniel: Rent is covered through December.
Rachel: I told you I don’t want your money.
Daniel: It’s for Noah.
Rachel: You said we were supposed to stop doing this.
Daniel: I’m not letting him lose his home.
Rachel: If Emily sees these transfers, we’re dead.
Daniel: She doesn’t look at that account.
My heart started pounding.
That account.
What account?
I went back to Ashley’s earlier message.
Executive reimbursement account.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“Emily?”
“What account was Daniel using?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Find out.”
“I can’t access company systems anymore. Richard suspended my credentials tonight.”
“Why?”
“Standard procedure.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Ashley, did Daniel use company money to pay my sister’s rent?”
“I think so.”
“How much?”
“I saw transfers totaling around forty-eight thousand dollars.”
I stood completely still.
“That’s impossible.”
“It may be more.”
“For rent?”
“And other things.”
“What other things?”
“A private school deposit for Noah. Medical bills. A car repair. Something labeled consulting.”
My throat tightened.
Noah’s school.
Daniel had helped Rachel get Noah into that school.
He told me he had written a recommendation.
Maybe he had written a check too.
Then Ashley said something that made my blood run cold.
“There was also a transfer last month.”
“To Rachel?”
“No.”
“To who?”
“You.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It wasn’t really to you.”
“What does that mean?”
“The authorization had your name.”
I gripped the phone.
“What authorization?”
“A home equity document.”
I stopped breathing.
“What home equity document?”
May you like
Ashley whispered.
“Emily, I think Daniel borrowed money against your house.”
