Chapter Three

I could not stand it one more second; I turned and ran through the kitchen, out the back door, into the dark garden behind the house. The music and the voices faded behind me. Out here, there was only the night air and the smell of smoke from the barbecue the servers had used earlier.

I stopped by the low brick fire pit, its coals still glowing orange, and I let it all out. I screamed, pressing my hand over my own mouth to keep it quiet, but it came anyway, shaking my whole body. Three years of holding everything in, and it all broke loose in the dark. I cried for Ethan. For the baby. And the stupid, hopeful girl who had wrapped a lily on a box and thought love might grow where there was only ice.

***

I did not sleep, nor did I know when everyone left. The next morning, I lay in the big cold bed and watched the ceiling turn from black to gray to pale morning white. Liam's side was empty. It had been empty all night.  A soft knock came at the door.

"Mrs. Evelyn?" The door opened, and Mrs. Muna came in with a tray. "You are awake. Good. Drink something warm." She set the tray on the bedside table. Steam curled up from a cup of tea. Mrs. Muna had been in this house longer than I had. She was round and gray and kind, and in two years of cold meals and empty beds, she was the only one who ever looked at me like I was a person.

"I'm not hungry," I said. "Tea, then. Just tea." She sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the warm cup into my hands. Her eyes moved down to my stomach, then back up to my face. She knew. Of course she knew. "You must take care now. Stress is not good for you. Not in your condition."

My throat went tight. "You heard."

"The whole house heard, child." She smoothed my hair back the way a mother would. "But you listen to me. Whatever those people say. You and that baby come first. Everything else can burn." I held the tea, and I almost cried again. "Thank you, Mrs. Muna."

"Drink." She stood up. "And eat a little. For the baby." She left me alone with the warm cup and the quiet. My phone buzzed on the table. Margaret: “On my way back to the city. We need to talk. Are you okay?” Margaret was one real friend. I typed “I'm fine” and then deleted it because it was a lie, and sent nothing at all.

I stared at the phone for a long time. My thumb hovered over another name. Mr. Marlon. He was out on a business trip in another country.  I could call him and tell him what happened, tell him the photos were fake. He had always been fair with me, in his cold business way. Maybe he would listen.

Then I put the phone down. Because I could not tell him, not with the terms of the contract I signed. I could recall every word of it. I was the product brain behind Marlon Jupiter Holdings. I would design, I would invent, I would bring in the big deals. In return, the Marlons paid to fly my little brother out of the country for his stem cell transplant. And there were two rules. Two hard rules that I had signed my name under.

No intimacy with Liam.

And no children.

A baby broke the whole contract. A baby was proof I had crossed the line. My hands went cold around the cup. If Mr. Marlon found out I was pregnant, he could tear up the deal. He could stop paying. He could pull Ethan out of treatment and fly him back to Denver, back to a hospital bed and a death sentence.

I pressed my hand flat against my stomach. One life, I thought. I'm carrying a life now. And one word could cost me both of them.

I got up. I washed my face. I put on my best dress and my straightest spine. I went to work.

***

The whole office turned to look at me the moment I walked in. Conversations stopped. Heads lifted over computer screens. A woman by the printer whispered to another woman, and they both went quiet when I passed. The silence followed me across the floor like a cold wind. I did not look at one of them.

I knew it could only be Stephanie and Nancy. Their mouths were as sharp as scissors. No piece of gossip ever got past their desk. This time it was my name on the table, and of course, anyone would give anything to hear how the cheating wife finally got caught.

I slowed down behind the shelf. I should have kept walking. I didn't. "Did you see the photos?" an employee whispered. "In a hotel. With another man. And her poor husband found out on his own birthday."

"I always knew she was the type," another said. "Quiet ones are the worst." I lifted my chin, and I walked straight to my desk, and I opened my sketchpad, and I started my day like the whole world was not staring at my back. I had learned a long time ago how to do this. How to feel everything and show nothing.

By noon I needed air, so I went to the cafeteria for water. I did not mean to hear them. Two women stood by the coffee machine with their backs to me. "...with another man, can you believe it? There were photos." "On his birthday too. Shameless."

"She acts so quiet and sweet. And the whole time…" I set my glass down very slowly. My hand was shaking. I turned to leave before they could see my face. My phone rang. Margaret. "Ev," she said the moment I answered. Her voice was fast and worried. "Where are you? Migrate was 

"I'm at work. What is it?"

"I just drove past the glass tower on Fifth. The fancy one, the penthouses." She paused. "Ev, I saw Liam. He was walking out of the building. Out of Cherry Stegman's place. This morning. He stayed the night."

Hearing these words, even though I already knew, something kicked inside me. My chest went tight. My hands started to shake. What if he never comes back? What if this is the end of our marriage? The questions spun in my head, faster and faster, and I could not stop them. My whole body felt cold, like the floor had dropped away beneath me. I pressed my hand to my stomach.