Chapter 3

My phone vibrated with a message from Alaric. I clicked on it to find a series of voice notes. I tapped on each one, only to hear his breaking voice playing through the phone.

"Where are you, Elena? I'm worried sick about you."

"I was wrong for treating you the way I did last night, but that was my favorite ornament. How could you have smashed it on a whim?"

"Whatever we said last night was all part of the game. Why won't you believe me? That joke shouldn't even leave a mark on our years-long relationship!"

It was hilarious how he thought my lack of trust in him was the problem and not his relationship with Tracy.

I replied expressionlessly, "Do you honestly not know what's wrong between us, Alaric? Stop playing dumb. You suck at pretending."

No sooner had I sent the message than Alaric called me. "Come on, Elena, don't say that. I'm truly sorry."

He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, the plea in his voice amplified by a sense of urgency. "Stop being angry, okay?"

Just then, I heard very soft panting coming from the other line. My fingers stiffened around my phone as I demanded instinctively, "What's happening on your end?"

"N-Nothing." His voice wavered. Before he could finish speaking, a whimper that couldn't be repressed came through.

An intense roaring filled my head.

I could practically imagine the scene: he was apologizing to me while tussling with another woman.

My fingertips turned white from clutching my phone too hard. The scene in my head made me want to retch.

I asked calmly, "Is Tracy there with you?"

I could sense Alaric's panic through the phone. Tracy's singsong voice rang out the next second.

"Hey, Elena, don't get the wrong idea. I'm just working out with Alaric, that's all." She continued shamelessly, "I mean, you're always so busy with work, you hardly spend time with him. As his pal, it's kind of my job to blow off steam with him, you know?"

There was a crisp shattering, like the sound of a glass breaking as it hit the floor. This was followed by Tracy's protesting whine, "Alaric! Take it slow…"

She giggled in satisfaction on the other line.

"Elena, the trainer's here! I… I'll talk to you later, okay? Bye!" Alaric said urgently, then hung up without another word.

I listened to the rhythmic beeping on the phone and felt my heart hollow out for the first time.

I sat dumbly on the bed, my tears falling uncontrollably.

I had no idea how much time had passed before Leslie called and said somberly, "Elena, I have results. You might want to sit down for this."

My heart sank, and I gripped my phone so tightly that my fingers turned white.

Leslie said, "Tracy has, indeed, undergone an abortion at a private hospital in Franston three years ago. The emergency contact listed on her surgery consent form was Alaric Lovell.

"I also found a bank transaction record dated a day before her abortion, when you wired five thousand dollars to Alaric's account for… per the transfer details… 'family emergency.'"

I saw black spots in my vision, and an intense roaring filled my ears.

I remembered now.

Alaric had called me that day, sobbing on the phone as he told me his mother had had a heart attack and needed money for surgery. I'd been so anxious that I borrowed money from whoever I could and transferred it to him at the first instance.

As it turned out, the family emergency in question had been to abort his and Tracy's baby, and I had been the empathetic, generous benefactor for their cause.

Leslie went on, "I also dug up some other stuff. I've compiled them into a folder and emailed you. Elena, are you… okay?"

I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter, rancid taste in my throat. "I'm fine, Leslie. Thanks."

After hanging up, I clicked on my email inbox with a trembling hand. With every picture I swiped, my heart bled like it'd been drawn and quartered.

I saw shots of Alaric and Tracy kissing with the Taniere Museum behind them, embracing along the Aster, and beaming sweetly in a lavender field in Prowance.

In one of the pictures, Alaric was even hugging Tracy from behind, his hands overlapping hers on her lower stomach. The caption then had been: "In memory of the angel we lost. We'll keep you safe next time."

The picture had been posted three days after her abortion.

I'd been in a social gathering that day, drinking until my stomach bled, all so I could buy Alaric the art materials he'd been talking about.

How pathetic!

Resisting the urge to smash my computer, I compiled and encrypted all the evidence.