Chapter 9: Lily

I can't sleep.

It's 2 AM, and I'm lying in bed listening to James breathe beside me, my mind spinning with questions I'm afraid to ask. The documents I found keep flashing through my memory like a slideshow of secrets. Fifty thousand dollars. New Life Fertility Clinic. Chicago.

What was he buying?

At 10 weeks pregnant, insomnia is supposed to be normal. The books say it's hormones, anxiety about becoming a mother, and the body's way of preparing for all those sleepless nights ahead. But this isn't pregnancy insomnia. This is the kind of sleeplessness that comes from living with secrets.

I slip out of bed as quietly as possible and pad to the kitchen for some water. The baby is still too small for me to feel movement, but I find myself rubbing my barely-there bump anyway, a gesture that's becoming automatic.

"It's okay, sweetheart," I whisper. "Mommy's just thinking."

But it's not okay. Nothing about this is OK.

I'm standing at the sink, staring at our dark backyard, when I see him again. A figure at the edge of our property line, barely visible in the shadows of the neighbor's oak tree. Tall, broad-shouldered, perfectly still.

My heart stops.

This time, I know I'm not imagining it. Someone is watching our house. Watching me.

I duck down below the window ledge, my pulse hammering in my throat. Should I wake James? Call the police? But when I peek up again, the figure is gone.

I wait ten minutes before creeping back to bed, but sleep doesn't come. Instead, I lie awake wondering if the man in our yard is connected to James's secrets. Maybe my husband has gotten involved in something dangerous, and now that danger is following us home.

The next morning, James is back to his perfectly attentive self. He makes me breakfast again—scrambled eggs with cheese, the way I like them. He asks how I slept, if morning sickness kept me awake, and whether I need anything from the store.

"Actually," I say carefully, "I was thinking about calling Zoe today. To tell her about the move."

James pauses with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. "Oh. Right. Of course."

"She's going to want to throw me a baby shower before we leave. And my sister will probably want to visit one more time—"

"Lily." His voice is gentle, but there's steel underneath. "I think it might be better if we kept the move quiet for now."

"What do you mean?"

"Just until everything is finalized with the company. You know how office politics can be. If word gets out too early, it could complicate things."

I stare at him across the breakfast table, this man who used to tell me everything. Now he's asking me to lie to my best friend. To my family.

"How long do we need to keep it quiet?"

"Just until I give my notice here. Once everything's official, we can tell everyone."

By then, it will be too late for anyone to talk me out of going. Too late for Zoe to help me figure out what James is hiding.

"Okay," I say, because what else can I say? But inside, my resolve is hardening. I need to know what those payments were for. I need to understand what I've gotten myself into before James drags me miles away from anyone who might be able to help me.

After he leaves for work, I call the number I found for the Fertility Clinic in Chicago. My hands are shaking as I dial.

"New Life Fertility, this is Amanda, how can I help you?"

"Hi, um, I'm calling about some treatments my husband arranged. James Collins? I just wanted to verify some information about our account."

There's a pause on the other end. "I'm sorry, but I don't see a James Collins in our system. Could you spell that for me?"

I spell it out, my heart sinking with each letter.

"No, I'm not finding anyone by that name. Are you sure you have the right clinic?"

"Maybe it was under a different name? Or maybe you have a different location?"

"Ma'am, we only have this one location, and I've been here for three years. I know all our patients. Are you sure your husband came to New Life?"

My throat is closing up. "Maybe I made a mistake. Thank you for your time."

I hang up and stare at my phone. If James didn't go to the Fertility Clinic, then what was the fifty thousand dollars for?

I'm still puzzling over this when I hear a car door slam outside. Through the front window, I see James walking up our driveway, and my blood turns to ice. He's supposed to be at work. It's not even noon.

I barely have time to shove my phone into my pocket before he walks through the front door.

"Hey, beautiful," he says, but something is off about his smile. "Forgot some files I need for a meeting."

"Oh. Okay."

He heads toward his office, and I follow him, trying to look casual. But when he opens his filing cabinet, I see him pause. He runs his fingers along the edge of the drawer, then looks up at me.

"Have you been in here today?"

The question sounds innocent enough, but there's something in his tone that makes my skin crawl. Something cold and sharp.

"I was dusting yesterday," I say. "I might have bumped into the cabinet."

He nods slowly, never taking his eyes off me. "Right. Of course."

But I can tell he doesn't believe me. I can tell he knows I was looking through his files.

"I should get going," he says, grabbing a random folder from his desk. "Don't want to be late for that meeting."

After he leaves, I lock the front door and lean against it, my heart racing. He knows. Somehow, he knows I found those documents.

I need to call Zoe. I need to tell someone what's happening. But as I reach for my phone, it buzzes with a text message from James.

*Love you. Excited about our fresh start in Denver.*

The message should be sweet, and romantic. Instead, it feels like a threat.

I'm typing a response when I hear something that makes my blood freeze. The sound of our garage door opening.

James is back.

I delete my half-written text and shove the phone back in my pocket just as he walks through the door from the garage.

"Forgot my phone charger too," he says cheerfully. But his eyes are watchful, calculating.

This time, I don't follow him. I stay in the kitchen, pretending to be busy with the dishes while my mind races. He's checking on me. Making sure I'm not doing something I shouldn't be doing.

When he leaves again, I don't even wait for his car to disappear down the street. I grab my purse and keys and head for the door.

I need to see Zoe. I need to tell her everything, no matter what James says about keeping quiet.

But as I'm backing out of the driveway, I catch a glimpse of a dark sedan parked at the end of our street. It's been there for the past two days, I realize. Always in a slightly different spot, but always there.

Someone is watching me.

The question is: are they working for James, or are they trying to protect me from him?