Chapter 4 Who Is He Cheating With?

"Mommy? Is my bear there?" Zoe’s tiny voice from the second row broke the silence that had been ringing in my ears.

"Mrs. Rhea? Do you need help back there?" Bruna, sitting right next to Zoe, turned to look toward the gap between the seats.

My blood ran cold. From my half-crouching position in the third row, I could see the reflection of Zachary’s brown eyes in the rearview mirror. He was preparing to turn around.

Hide it. Now!

My left hand groped blindly toward the other corner, and luckily, my fingertips brushed against the soft fur of my daughter’s teddy bear.

"I-it’s here, Sweetie! Here’s the bear," I said, my voice wavering, but I cleared my throat loudly and forced the most natural smile I could muster as I crawled back to the second row and handed the toy to Zoe.

Zachary watched me in the rearview mirror, his thick brows furrowed in concern. "You look so pale, my Angel. Coming down with something?"

I met my husband’s gaze—the eyes of an agnostic man willing to sit in church for hours for my sake, the man who, just minutes ago, had been kissing our child’s cheeks. *Who owns that tuberose jacket, Zach?!* I screamed silently.

"Just... a bit dizzy from bending over so long to look for the bear," I lied smoothly. I slipped my tightly clenched hand into the pocket of my cashmere coat, keeping the condom securely hidden.

The Lincoln SUV continued to glide through the streets of the Upper East Side. The scent of tuberose still lingered faintly, mingling with my husband’s masculine bergamot fragrance. An overwhelming wave of nausea churned in my stomach.

Upon arriving at the courtyard of the grand Catholic church, Zachary stepped out first. He opened my door and extended his strong hand in a protective gesture that made several socialite matrons on the church steps whisper in admiration.

“Look at Mr. Zachary,” Bruna whispered beside me as we walked inside together. “Honestly, that man is a dream husband sent straight from heaven. If you had used one of my aunt’s charms—she’s a Mãe de Santo, you know—you’d never have to worry about him slipping through your fingers, Mrs. Rhea.”

I could only manage a stiff smile at Bruna’s chatter.

***

We were sitting on the wooden pews at Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church; Zachary sat with impeccable posture, his arm around a drowsy Zoe, flashing warm smiles at the rows of familiar faces.

Then, suddenly, the screen of the phone he'd carelessly rested on his thigh lit up. An unidentified number had sent a text message that stood out starkly on the lock screen: "Did she find out?"

Instantly, the air seemed to vanish from my lungs; reflexively, I gripped the hymnal in my lap so hard my knuckles turned white, fighting to control my emotions while frantically wondering who would dare send such a message—and what terrible secret it was that I wasn't supposed to know.

When the sermon ended, and we stepped out into the biting cold of the church courtyard—just as Zoe ran ahead to look at the fountain—I grabbed the sleeve of Zachary's jacket with all my might.

"Who sent that message, Zach?" I asked. My voice was barely a whisper, yet I knew it sounded as sharp as a dagger ready to slice. Zachary looked at me slowly, without panic or sweat.

Instead, he let out a sharp sigh and rubbed his temples, acting like the most exhausted man on earth, burdened by a heavy load.

"What message? Oh, the screen that lit up earlier?" He shook his head slowly, looking frustrated. “It's the usual situation. Ashley has fallen for another 'Tinder Swindler' type. Mom has complained about it.”

My wonderful mother-in-law, Laura, only knew how to complain and let Ashley made mistakes.

"Again?" I asked, hesitant — though given Ashley's track record with the wrong men, it wasn't hard to imagine. "But why didn't she use her real number?"

"Typical Ashley. She’s in deep debt," Zachary whispered pitifully. His eyes held a look of desperation.

Honestly, I'd usually react immediately, but right now?

I just stared blankly at my husband.

"She's dodging debt collectors. She got fired after a run-in with her boss, so she's using a burner number to avoid being tracked. That message... she was just asking if Mom and Dad knew about the disgrace. I'm just trying to protect her, covering her tracks so it doesn't turn into a scandal."

My logic hit a wall; his explanation actually made sense.

I opened my mouth to ask again — who, Zach, who sent it — but something in his face stopped me.

"Zach! Oh God, Zach!"

Zach and I turned in unison at the sound of frantic footsteps, and there was Ashley, scrambling wildly over the stone steps like a woman possessed.

Her sheer white blouse looked disheveled, her oversized sunglasses sat askew and nearly fell off, and her blonde hair tangled messily—as if a storm had caught her.

Her face was deathly pale; she looked exactly like someone who had just run into a demon in broad daylight.

Completely ignoring the sneering looks of the socialites whispering around us, she lunged at her brother, clinging to Zach so tightly it seemed she’d never let go.

"You made the transfer, right? Tell me you took care of everything this morning, Zach! Please, just tell me you did!" Ashley babbled, sobbing hysterically. "I’m terrified to go back to the apartment, Zach! If Mom finds out about this debt, I’m done for—I’m absolutely finished!"

I could only stand there in silence, swallowing hard and feeling deeply uncomfortable as the atmosphere turned tense from the cheap drama playing out in public, all while people’s eyes began to judge us.

Zach patiently patted his sister’s back, then looked up at me with a dim, pleading gaze—a look that seemed to say I had to trust him, because the reality of the situation was right there before my eyes.

"You can help Ashley one more time, can't you, babe? Just this once," Zachary whispered, gently touching my chin. "I know you helped settle her old debts... but this one is a real emergency, Rhea."

Before I could even open my mouth to answer, Ashley suddenly sank to her knees, dropping down right in front of me onto the cold stone floor of the church courtyard.

"Rhea, please... help me just this once. I promise this is the last time I’ll ever ask you for help..." Ashley pleaded, clutching the hem of my dress tightly.

I froze instantly, not knowing how to react.

Had I been too quick to think the worst of a husband who had always loved me so deeply and was willing to put himself on the line to protect his own family?

Could it be... that I’d just been hallucinating the whole time?