Chapter 6
I read the message three times.
Then I looked at Rachel.
“Wife?”
She took my phone.
“Adrian is married?”
“Apparently.”
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did Emily?”
That was the question.
I typed back.
Can you prove who you are?
A photo arrived.
Adrian standing beside a blonde woman outside a courthouse.
He wore a dark suit.
She wore a simple white dress.
The timestamp was two years earlier.
Then came a picture of a marriage certificate.
Adrian Cole.
Claire Morgan Cole.
Rachel whispered, “This is insane.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was controlled.
Almost too controlled.
“Are you James?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“I’m getting a lot of that today.”
“I imagine.”
“How did you get my number?”
“Adrian has it saved.”
“You went through his phone?”
“No.”
She paused.
“He left his laptop open.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently nobody in this situation understood passwords.
Claire continued.
“I found messages between him and Emily about six weeks ago.”
“Six weeks?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you contact me then?”
“I was gathering information.”
Rachel raised her eyebrows as if she approved.
I asked, “What information?”
“Financial.”
My stomach tightened.
“You mentioned the home equity loan.”
“Yes.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Because twenty thousand dollars eventually reached an account Adrian controls.”
I stood.
“What?”
Rachel stood too.
Claire continued.
“It didn’t go directly from your account to his. Emily moved it through two different accounts first.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Adrian ask for it?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“For what?”
“A business.”
“What business?”
“He’s been trying to start a property development company.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course he has.”
“He told me the money came from an investor.”
“Did you believe him?”
“At first.”
“And now?”
“Now I know your wife gave it to him.”
I looked at the home equity documents.
“My signature was forged.”
Claire was silent for a second.
“That I didn’t know.”
“I was out of town when it was signed.”
“Then you need an attorney.”
“I’m aware.”
“James, there’s something else.”
I almost asked her not to say it.
But I was done hiding from facts.
“Tell me.”
“Adrian told Emily he was going to leave me.”
Rachel shook her head.
I asked, “Was he?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he and I were trying to have a baby.”
That stunned me.
“What?”
“We were seeing a fertility specialist.”
I sat down.
“During the affair?”
“Yes.”
My head hurt.
“Did Emily know?”
“I don’t think so.”
Claire’s voice cracked slightly for the first time.
“He was trying to have a child with me while telling your wife he might be the father of hers.”
I looked at the photo Emily had sent me of our sleeping son.
The adults around that child had created a disaster before he had taken his first breath.
“Claire, why are you contacting me now?”
“Because Adrian came home an hour ago.”
My body tightened.
“He left the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That everything was over.”
“With Emily?”
“With everyone.”
“What does that mean?”
“He packed a bag.”
Rachel mouthed, Where is he going?
I asked.
Claire sighed.
“I don’t know.”
Then she added, “But before he left, he emptied our joint checking account.”
I stood again.
“How much?”
“Thirty-one thousand.”
“Call the police.”
“I already called the bank.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
Her voice turned hard.
“I am not protecting him anymore.”
Something about that sentence stayed with me.
Not protecting him anymore.
Maybe that was the difference between Claire and everyone else.
She had reached her limit.
I was still discovering mine.
“Can you send me everything you have about the twenty thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Messages, account information, dates.”
“Yes.”
“Do not edit anything.”
“I won’t.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Did Adrian tell you anything about Emily naming the baby after him?”
Long silence.
Then Claire said, “He bragged about it.”
My blood went cold.
“When?”
“Last month.”
“He told me tonight he thought it was cruel.”
“He may think that now.”
“What did he say before?”
Claire sounded disgusted.
“He said no matter whose child it was, part of him would always be in your house.”
Rachel whispered, “Oh, I hate him.”
So did I.
But strangely, hearing that changed something.
Until then, I had seen Adrian as the man who had taken part of my life.
Now I saw something else.
A pathetic man desperate to leave fingerprints on things that did not belong to him.
My marriage.
My money.
My son’s name.
I suddenly hated the name Adrian even more.
“Send everything,” I told Claire.
“I will.”
We ended the call.
Rachel paced the kitchen.
“So Emily forged your signature to borrow twenty-four thousand dollars and gave twenty thousand to her married boyfriend.”
“Looks that way.”
“You need to call someone.”
“I know.”
“Tonight.”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“Lawyers have voicemail.”
I looked at her.
“You watch too many legal shows.”
“I also know you shouldn’t sleep next to someone who forged loan documents.”
I picked up my phone.
“I’m not planning to.”
I called an attorney I knew through work.
Mark Delaney.
I expected voicemail.
He answered.
“James?”
“Sorry. I know it’s late.”
“Is everything okay?”
“No.”
That became my answer to everything.
For the next fifteen minutes, I gave him the short version.
He interrupted twice.
Once when I mentioned the money.
Again when I mentioned the forged signature.
“Do not confront her about the forgery tonight,” he said.
“She’s still in the hospital.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“You need time to preserve records.”
I hated how clinical that sounded.
But I understood.
“Can she take the baby and leave?”
“She is the mother. You are the father. Right now, absent a court order, you both have rights.”
“So what do I do?”
“First, do nothing reckless.”
“I’m not reckless.”
“I say that to everybody.”
“Fine.”
“Second, save every document. Every text. Screenshot balances. Download statements.”
“Okay.”
“Third, tomorrow we talk about the financial situation and what you want personally.”
“What I want personally?”
“Divorce. Separation. Reconciliation. I don’t decide that.”
I stared at the nursery monitor box on the counter.
Unopened.
We had planned to install it that weekend.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“That’s allowed.”
“Does filing first matter?”
“Sometimes. Not always the way people think.”
“I don’t want to take my son away from his mother.”
“Then don’t make decisions based on anger.”
“But I’m not letting her disappear with him.”
“That is a legitimate concern given what you’ve told me.”
I appreciated the distinction.
Concern.
Not revenge.
Before we ended the call, Mark said, “James, one more thing.”
“What?”
“Assume every message you send from this point forward could be read by a judge.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Understood.”
“Good. Come to my office at nine.”
We hung up.
For the next hour, Rachel and I downloaded everything.
Bank statements.
Loan documents.
Emails.
Credit card history.
Transfers.
Then I searched our shared cloud storage.
That was where I found the apartment lease.
Emily had signed it six weeks earlier.
Move-in date: three days after the baby’s expected delivery.
Occupants: Emily Carter and one child.
No Adrian.
I stared at that line.
One child.
Not one husband.
Rachel sat beside me.
“She really planned it.”
“Yeah.”
There was an emergency contact.
Susan Reynolds.
Of course.
Then I noticed something else.
The rent had been prepaid for three months.
Almost six thousand dollars.
I checked our statements again.
It wasn’t there.
The money came from a different source.
I searched further.
Then I found an email confirmation.
A personal loan.
Twelve thousand dollars.
In Emily’s name.
I shook my head.
“She was building an entire second life.”
Rachel looked sick.
At one thirty in the morning, she made coffee.
At two, my phone buzzed.
Emily.
Are you awake?
I stared at the message.
Rachel looked at me.
“Remember what the lawyer said.”
I typed carefully.
Yes.
Emily replied.
He won’t sleep unless someone holds him.
I looked at the photo she sent next.
My son was sleeping against her chest.
Her face was barely visible.
I felt longing so intense it made me angry at myself.
I wanted to be there.
Not for her.
For him.
Then another message.
I know you hate me, but I’m scared.
I stared.
I typed:
Are you and the baby medically okay?
She replied immediately.
Yes.
Good.
A minute later:
That’s all?
I wrote:
For tonight, yes.
She called.
I let it ring.
Then she called again.
I answered.
“What?”
Her voice was quiet.
“Please come back.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“I know.”
“You need to rest.”
“I can’t.”
“I can’t either.”
The baby made a small sound in the background.
My chest tightened.
Emily whispered, “He needs his dad.”
I closed my eyes.
“That isn’t fair.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t get to use him to bring me back into that room.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I just want us to talk.”
“We talked.”
“Not enough.”
“Emily, I have spent the last six hours learning things about my own life from strangers.”
She went silent.
I continued.
“I learned from your boyfriend that you took a paternity test.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“That correction does not help.”
“I know.”
“I learned from my bank that you moved our savings.”
“I know.”
“I learned from a woman I had never met that Adrian is married.”
Silence.
That silence was different.
I sat up.
“You knew.”
Emily whispered, “James.”
“You knew he was married.”
“I found out.”
“When?”
“July.”
I stared at the wall.
“You continued talking to him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you continue sleeping with him?”
Another silence.
My stomach dropped.
“Emily.”
“Once.”
Rachel saw my face.
She closed her eyes.
I spoke very slowly.
“You found out your affair partner was married.”
“Yes.”
“And then you slept with him again.”
“I was angry.”
“At who?”
“Everyone.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
I stood and walked into the living room.
“Did you give him twenty thousand dollars?”
The line went quiet.
Mark had told me not to confront her about the forgery.
I hadn’t.
Not yet.
“Emily.”
“He said it was an investment.”
“With our money?”
“I was going to get it back.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
I looked at the family photo over the fireplace.
Emily and me at Rachel’s lake house.
Smiling.
Her arm around my waist.
Taken two weeks after the transfer.
“How could you stand beside me and smile?”
She cried quietly.
“I don’t know.”
“How could you live two lives?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“I’m trying.”
“No. You’re answering what I already know.”
She stopped.
I continued.
“Truth is what you tell someone before they discover it.”
The baby began crying.
Emily immediately shifted her attention.
I heard her whisper to him.
“It’s okay. Mommy’s here.”
My anger disappeared for a second.
He was hungry.
Tired.
Brand-new.
He didn’t care about affairs or bank accounts or lies.
He needed comfort.
I whispered, “Take care of him.”
“I am.”
“I’ll be there in the morning.”
“To see him?”
“Yes.”
“And us?”
I stared at the picture on the wall.
“There is no us tonight.”
I ended the call.
Rachel handed me coffee.
“You should sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“You need to.”
“I’m going to change the locks.”
She stared at me.
“Tonight?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Talk to Mark first.”
I nodded.
She was right.
Again.
At three in the morning, Rachel fell asleep on the couch.
I stayed awake at the kitchen table.
At four seventeen, another message arrived.
Claire.
She had sent a folder containing screenshots.
One conversation between Emily and Adrian caught my attention.
It was dated August twenty-ninth.
The day after my signature appeared on the home equity loan.
Emily:
I did it. If James ever finds out, I’m finished.
Adrian:
He won’t.
Emily:
You don’t know him.
Adrian:
I know men like him.
Emily:
No, you don’t.
Adrian:
Then trust me.
Emily:
I already trusted you once.
Adrian:
And you still came back.
I stared at that last sentence.
Then there was another message from Emily.
I’m not doing anything else for you.
Adrian:
You say that every time.
My anger shifted.
Not gone.
Not reduced.
But complicated.
I scrolled further.
There were arguments.
Adrian threatening to tell me.
Emily begging him not to.
Adrian asking for money.
Emily refusing.
Then agreeing.
One message stood out.
If you leave me with nothing after everything I risked for you, James gets every screenshot.
I sat back.
Blackmail.
Not legal blackmail in the dramatic movie sense.
But emotional coercion.
Threats.
Pressure.
Manipulation.
It didn’t erase what Emily had done.
She had chosen the affair.
Chosen the lies.
Chosen to move money.
But Adrian had been squeezing her too.
At the bottom of Claire’s folder was a final screenshot.
Adrian had written:
Name the boy after me and maybe I’ll believe you meant any of it.
Emily replied:
You’re sick.
Adrian:
And yet you keep choosing me.
I stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
Then I understood the name.
Not love.
Not nostalgia.
Not even affection.
It was a symbol of control.
And Emily had still chosen to obey.
My phone buzzed one more time.
Claire.
There’s another thing you should know.
I replied:
What?
Her answer came seconds later.
May you like
Adrian didn’t leave town tonight.
He checked into the hotel across from the hospital.
