Chapter 6: Lily

My stomach dropped. "Oh?"

He nodded, sipping his coffee. "Poor girl looked exhausted. Said Zoe's been sleeping at the office."

Was he lying? Had he somehow seen our text exchange? Or was it just a coincidence?

"Actually," I said carefully, "Zoe texted last night. We're having lunch today."

James's mug paused halfway to his lips. "Is that so?"

"She's picking me up at noon." I took a bite of my sandwich, forcing myself to chew and swallow despite my churning stomach.

"That's odd," he said, setting his mug down with deliberate precision. "Given what her assistant told me."

"Maybe she managed to clear some time," I suggested, keeping my voice light. "You know Zoe always makes time for friends no matter how busy she is."

James studied me for a long moment. "What are you two planning to talk about?"

The question hung in the air between us. Something in his tone made my skin prickle.

"Just catching up," I said with a shrug, hoping it looked casual. "Girl stuff. Pregnancy symptoms she can commiserate with from when she had the twins."

He relaxed slightly, but his eyes remained watchful. "That's nice. I'm glad you have someone to talk to about all that."

"Me too." I glanced at the clock on the microwave at 8:37 AM. Hours still until Zoe would arrive.

"I have some calls to make before my first meeting," James said, standing. He leaned down to kiss my forehead. "Don't forget to take your prenatal vitamin."

"I won't."

His hand lingered on my shoulder, his grip just tight enough to feel deliberate. "And Lily? Remember what Dr. Morris said about stress. Be careful what kind of conversations you have with Zoe. She can be... intense."

The warning was clear beneath his concerned words. I swallowed hard. "I'll keep it light, I promise."

He smiled, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "That's my girl."

After he disappeared, I sat motionless at the kitchen table, my breakfast growing cold. My phone buzzed in my pocket, another text from Zoe.

*Slight change of plans. Can I pick you up at 11 instead? Just got out of a meeting that was supposed to take all morning.*

I glanced toward James's closed office door, then typed quickly: *Perfect. Actually, can we meet somewhere? I need to get out of the house.*

Her response came immediately: *Sure. Is the park by your place? We can grab takeout from that Thai place you like.*

*See you at 11. Don't tell anyone.*

I deleted our conversation thread immediately after sending that last message, my hands shaking slightly. I wasn't sure why I felt the need for such secrecy. James knew about the lunch, but something deep inside me, some primal instinct for self-preservation, was screaming that caution was necessary.

At 10:30, I knocked on James's office door.

"Come in," he called, his voice carrying that crisp business tone he used during work hours.

I poked my head in. "Zoe texted. She can meet earlier, so I'm going to head out."

He frowned slightly. "I thought she was picking you up at noon."

"Her schedule cleared up," I said smoothly. "I'm going to walk to meet her. Get some fresh air."

"I don't think you should be walking that far in your condition," he said, already reaching for his keys. "Let me drive you."

"It's four blocks, James," I laughed, the sound brittle even to my ears. "The doctor said gentle exercise is good for me, remember?"

He hesitated, clearly torn between controlling the situation and maintaining his role as the concerned, supportive husband.

"At least let me walk with you," he suggested.

"Don't be silly. You have meetings." I stepped into the office and kissed his cheek, playing the role of adoring wife. "I'll be fine. I have my phone if I need you."

For a moment, I thought he would insist. Then his phone rang, saving me from further argument.

"Collins," he answered sharply, his eyes still fixed on me.

I mouthed "I love you" and backed out of the room before he could end the call and stop me.

Outside, the spring air felt like freedom against my face. I walked briskly, one hand clutching my purse where the journal sat heavy like a confession. With each step away from our townhouse, my resolve strengthened.

Zoe was already waiting at the park entrance when I arrived, her long red hair pulled back in a professional bun that contrasted with her worried expression.

"You look like hell," she said by way of greeting, pulling me into a hug.

"Thanks," I replied with a weak smile. "Just what every pregnant woman wants to hear."

She studied my face. "What's going on, Lil? Your text seemed urgent."

I glanced around the busy park. "Can we walk? I don't want to sit in one place."

"Sure." She fell into step beside me. "Now spill. You're scaring me."

I took a deep breath, suddenly unsure where to begin. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me."

"Always."

"That day at the hospital, when you saw me... did you notice anything strange?"

She hesitated. "What do you mean by strange?"

"About me. About James. About how we were with each other."

Zoe stopped walking, turning to face me directly. "Lily, what's this about?"

Instead of answering, I opened my purse and pulled out the journal. "I need you to read this. Not all of it, but the parts I've marked."

She took the book hesitantly. "Here? Now?"

I nodded, my throat too tight for words.

We found a bench partially hidden by rhododendron bushes. As Zoe read, her expression shifted from confusion to concern to something darker.

"Lily," she finally said, closing the journal gently. "Has he hit you more than those two times?"

The direct question made me flinch. "No. He's been careful since then. But the control, the lies... It's getting worse."

"And you think he's hiding something about your fertility treatments?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm paranoid. But why would he lie about the Chicago clinic? And that phone call I overheard..." I twisted my hands in my lap. "Am I crazy, Zoe?"

She shook her head firmly. "You're not crazy. What you're describing sounds like textbook gaslighting. Making you doubt your memory, controlling your conversations, isolating you..."

"But he's been so supportive through everything. All the treatments, all the disappointments. He spent a fortune trying to give me this baby."

"Abusers aren't monsters 100% of the time, Lil. That's what makes it so confusing." She took my hand. "What do you want to do?"

The question I'd been avoiding for weeks hung between us. What did I want to do? Leave the father of my unborn child? Stay and hope the violence didn't escalate? Neither option seemed bearable.

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I need to find out what he's hiding first. About Chicago, about that phone call. I need to know what I'm dealing with."

Zoe's lawyer face clicked into place, focused, analytical. "I can help with that. The firm has investigators we use for case research. Completely confidential."

"You'd do that for me?"

"In a heartbeat." Her expression softened. "But Lily, you need to be prepared for what they might find. And you need a safety plan in the meantime."

"A safety plan?" The words made this all suddenly, terrifyingly real.

"Somewhere to go if things escalate. Money he can't access. Important documents secured." She squeezed my hand. "Just precautions. Hopefully you'll never need any of it."

I nodded numbly, trying to process that this was my life now, secret investigations and escape plans from the man I had once trusted with my whole heart.

"One more thing," Zoe said quietly. "I need your permission to photocopy this journal. It might be important evidence later."

Evidence. As if my marriage had become a crime scene.

"Okay," I whispered.

"I'll get these back to you tomorrow," she promised, carefully placing the journal in her bag. "And Lily? Don't confront him about any of this. Not until we know more."

"I won't."

She checked her watch and grimaced. "I have court in an hour. Let me drive you home."

Panic flared in my chest. "No. If James sees your car..."

"Right." She nodded, understanding immediately. "Can you get an Uber?"

"I'll walk. The fresh air helps with nausea."

She didn't look convinced but didn't argue. "Call me when you get home. And Lily? Be careful."

As I watched her walk away, her warning echoed in my head. Be careful. As if I hadn't been walking on eggshells for weeks already.

The walk home felt longer, my feet dragging with each step that brought me closer to our townhouse. To James. To the life that was starting to feel like a beautiful prison.

When I turned onto our street, I noticed James's car was gone from the driveway. Relief washed over me for a few more hours of peace before I had to resume my role as the adoring, unsuspicious wife.

I let myself in through the front door, the quiet of the empty house wrapping around me like a comfort blanket. In the kitchen, I found a note propped against the fruit bowl.

*Had to run to the office for an emergency meeting. Backed by 3. Rest. Love you both. -J*

The "both" made my stomach clench, his way of reminding me that any decision I made now affected our child too. A subtle manipulation that had worked so effectively until now.

I climbed the stairs slowly, exhaustion weighing on me. In our bedroom, I kicked off my shoes and lay down, my hand automatically finding the slight swell of my stomach.

"What am I going to do?" I whispered to my unborn child.

The silence offered no answers, but as I drifted into an uneasy sleep, one thought crystallized with perfect clarity: whatever James was hiding, I needed to find it before I could decide my next move.

And I needed to be very, very careful while I looked.