Tom waited until we were away from the others before speaking.
“You shouldn't have defended him.”
“I didn't.”
“You stood beside him.”
“I stood beside myself.”
Tom looked at me as if he wasn't sure what that meant.
I lowered my voice.
“If we accuse them now, they'll deny everything.”
Tom glanced toward the backyard.
“They already are.”
“Exactly.”
He folded his arms.
“I took those pictures last week.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Rachel lied to me.”
He told me she'd said she was meeting a friend. Instead, she'd gone to the estate with Michael.
Tom had followed her.
He'd watched them together from a distance.
He hadn't heard enough to prove an affair, but he'd seen the familiarity between them.
He'd seen the way Rachel touched Michael's arm.
He'd seen Michael touch her back.
“And you said nothing?”
“I wanted certainty.”
I understood.
Because I wanted the same thing.
Tom showed me the photographs again.
“Look closely.”
I did.
At first, I saw only Rachel and Michael.
Then I noticed something else.
The estate wasn't unfamiliar.
I recognized the stone terrace.
It belonged to a property my husband had mentioned months earlier.
A property he said he had been considering as an investment.
I looked at Tom.
“Why were they there?”
“That's what I don't know.”
Michael had told me he was helping a friend evaluate a property.
He had never mentioned Rachel.
“Did you hear anything?”
Tom hesitated.
“Enough to make me worry.”
“What did you hear?”
“They were talking about leaving.”
My heart sank.
“Leaving where?”
“Here.”
I closed my eyes.
The word was suddenly enormous.
Tom continued.
“I couldn't get close enough to hear everything. But they were talking about starting over.”
I thought about Rachel's kiss.
Her laughter.
Michael's silence.
Suddenly, the entire party felt like a performance I had accidentally walked onto the stage of.
“We need proof,” I said.
Tom nodded.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Rachel disappears every Friday.”
I looked at him.
“So does Michael.”
Tom's jaw tightened.
Michael had always told me Friday nights were when he met his old friends.
Sometimes he'd come home smelling faintly of smoke.
Sometimes he wouldn't.
I had never questioned it.
Now I wondered why I hadn't.
That evening, I watched Michael move around our hotel room.
Our children were asleep.
He removed his watch and placed it beside the bed.
“You okay?” he asked.
I looked at him.
“I'm tired.”
He smiled.
“You've had a long day.”
He kissed my forehead.
For ten years, that gesture had meant comfort.
That night, it felt rehearsed.
He turned off the light.
I stared into the darkness.
I kept thinking about the photographs.
The estate.
Rachel.
The Friday nights.
And one sentence Tom had said.
They were talking about leaving.
The next morning, Michael behaved normally.
That was almost worse.
He made coffee.
He packed the children's lunches.
He complained about traffic.
He kissed me before leaving.
“See you tonight.”
“Okay.”
He smiled.
Then he left.
I stood at the window until his car disappeared.
At noon, I called Tom.
“Still tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Don't let him see you.”
“I won't.”
“And if Rachel is with him?”
Tom was silent.
“Then we finally know.”
Friday evening arrived slowly.
Michael left first.
He told me he was meeting friends at a bar.
I waited ten minutes.
Then I left through the back entrance.
Tom met me several streets away.
We used separate cars.
We didn't speak much.
Michael drove past the restaurants where he usually met his friends.
Then past the bars.
Then farther out.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Rachel's car appeared behind him.
Tom saw it too.
Neither of us needed to say anything.
They eventually reached a quiet riverside park.
Michael parked beneath a row of trees.
Rachel arrived a minute later.
I watched them get out.
They didn't behave like two people having an innocent conversation.
Rachel went directly to him.
Michael touched her waist.
Then they kissed.
I raised my phone.
Tom did the same.
We stayed hidden.
Rachel said something.
Michael shook his head.
Then I heard his voice.
“We can't keep doing this.”
Rachel looked angry.
“You're the one who promised me.”
“I know.”
“Then do something.”
He looked around.
“We need to wait.”
“For what?”
“For Sadie to stop asking questions.”
My breath caught.
Rachel laughed bitterly.
“She believes you.”
Michael smiled.
“She wants to.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
Rachel stepped closer.
“What about the estate?”
“Not now.”
“Why?”
“Tom saw us there.”
She went silent.
Then Michael said something that made my hands go cold.
“The kiss was stupid.”
Rachel folded her arms.
“I was upset.”
“You nearly ruined everything.”
“I wanted to see if she suspected.”
“And?”
“She didn't.”
Michael laughed.
“She never does.”
I lowered my phone slightly.
Tom looked at me.
His face was pale.
We had enough.
But I kept recording.
Because something still didn't make sense.
Why had they risked everything in public?
Why kiss in front of the family?
Why give Tom a reason to investigate?
Then Rachel said it.
“I want us to leave soon.”
Michael nodded.
“We will.”
“When?”
“After the money is moved.”
My heart stopped.
Tom looked at me sharply.
Money.
This wasn't only about an affair.
Michael continued speaking.
“Once the account is settled, we can disappear.”
Rachel nodded.
“And Sadie?”
“She'll survive.”
I felt something inside me go still.
For ten years, I had shared a home with this man.
I had trusted him with my children.
I had defended him to my sister.
And now I was hearing him discuss leaving me as though I were an inconvenient piece of furniture.
Tom touched my arm.
I shook my head.
Not yet.
We needed the whole picture.
Rachel asked, “Does she know about the account?”
“No.”
“What if she finds out?”
“She won't.”
“How can you be sure?”
Michael smiled.
“Because she trusts me.”
My eyes filled with tears.
I forced them back.
Tom leaned closer.
“We have enough.”
I nodded.
We started to retreat.
Then a branch cracked beneath Tom's shoe.
Rachel turned.
“Did you hear that?”
Michael looked toward the trees.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Someone's there,” Rachel said.
Michael started walking toward us.
Tom grabbed my wrist.
“Run.”
We moved.
Quietly at first.
Then faster.
Behind us, Michael shouted my name.
I didn't turn around.
We reached the cars.
Tom pushed me toward mine.
“Go.”
“What about you?”
“I'll follow.”
I drove away.
My hands were shaking so badly that I could barely keep the car straight.
The recording was on my phone.
The truth was on my phone.
But the moment I reached the main road, another thought struck me.
Money.
What money?
And why had Michael been so certain I would never find out?
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: The Secret Account Changed Everything, Because Betrayal Was One Thing and Discovering What My Husband Had Taken Was Another
The Laugh That Followed the Kiss Was Easy to Hear, but the Silence in My Husband’s Face Told Me Something Was Wrong
Part 2 of 12
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