Chapter 2

My father moved fast.

I'd barely made it home before the divorce attorney was on the phone, and three gigabytes of evidence hit my inbox. Photos. Hotel records. And a video account I'd never seen before.

Eighty-three clips. Every single one featured my wife.

I learned that their first kiss happened on my twenty-third birthday. I'd gone upstairs to grab the cake. They were in the living room, going at it like teenagers. The caption on the video Jack posted that day was one word: Thrill.

I learned that their first time was during that city-wide blackout. Jack's building was in a rough part of town, and I was worried about him. I drove through the storm, water up to my knees, soaking wet, to check on him.

His door was locked.

He was in California with Emily. Three days, two nights. Never told me.

I stood in the dark, knocking for thirty minutes like an idiot, terrified something had happened to him.

Meanwhile, he and Emily were in a hotel suite, having candlelit dinner and their first "real conversation."

And the most recent clip—uploaded ten minutes ago. Shot in Jack's apartment. He was still wearing that gray robe, smirking at the camera like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Almost got caught sneaking around. Good thing Emily knows how to make it up to me."

Not a shred of guilt. Not one.

I watched that clip twenty times in a row. And finally accepted the truth.

The kid who'd followed me around since I was seven, who'd sworn on his life he'd never betray me—he was gone.

My hands were shaking around the phone. I flashed back to my wedding day. The bouquet toss. Emily and I walked through the crowd together, and I handed the bouquet to Jack myself.

"Your turn, man. I want you to be happy too."

He broke down crying, right there. He grabbed me and yelled in my ear: "Lane—you better be happy forever, you hear me? FOREVER!"

And now that same guy had taken everything.

I sat on the couch. The tears came, quiet and hot.

My phone buzzed. Emily.

"Hey, you're back? Jack told me. Why didn't you say something?"

"Where are you? You want me to pick you up?"

I looked at the video still on my screen. Jack saying she didn't want him coming home tonight.

"I'm at the airport. Work stuff—just grabbing some files, heading back out. Pick me up Monday, eight a.m."

There was a pause. I could hear her exhale. And in the background—a man's laugh, low and familiar.

"Okay, babe. I'm still at the office, so I won't see you tonight. Text me when you land."

I hung up. The lawyer was watching me carefully.

"Mr. Sheffield... are you sure—"

I cut him off with a smile.

"Martin. Just tell me one thing. Does catching them in the act give me better leverage in court?"