Chapter 2 - THE RETREAT THAT DIDN’T EXIST
Rachel arrived forty minutes later carrying two coffees and a legal pad.
My sister was forty-three, a high school principal, and the kind of woman who could silence a cafeteria full of teenagers by raising one eyebrow.
She sat at my kitchen table and listened.
The pills.
The hotel.
The canceled anniversary.
The late nights.
When I finished, she didn't say, Are you sure?
She said, “What do you know for certain?”
I stared at her.
“Daniel has a prescription he hasn't discussed with me.”
She nodded.
“And?”
“He's staying at a hotel outside Chicago.”
“And?”
“He's been distant for months.”
Rachel wrote it down.
“Anything else?”
I hesitated.
“I think there's another woman.”
Rachel set down her pen.
“That may be true. But don't let suspicion do the work of evidence.”
I looked at her.
“You think I'm overreacting.”
“No. I think you're hurt, and I don't want you making decisions based on something he can later explain away.”
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
***
At noon, I called Whitmore Financial's main office.
I didn't pretend to be anyone else.
I simply asked whether the company had a public schedule for its leadership retreat.
The receptionist sounded confused.
“I'm not aware of one, ma'am.”
“Could it be a private event?”
“Possibly. You'd need to ask the organizer.”
I thanked her and hung up.
Not proof.
But another unanswered question.
Then I remembered something.
Daniel's company had recently announced a merger.
A senior executive named Claire Bennett had transferred from its Chicago office.
Daniel had mentioned her several times.
Always casually.
Claire was brilliant.
Claire understood the market.
Claire was helping him prepare for promotion.
Then he'd stopped mentioning her.
I searched her name.
Her professional profile showed a woman in her late thirties with dark red hair and a confident smile.
She wore a silver necklace shaped like a crescent moon.
I recognized it.
Not from a photograph.
From our laundry room.
Three weeks earlier, I'd found a delicate silver chain tangled in Daniel's gym towel.
He'd told me it belonged to a coworker who'd accidentally left it in his car after a group workout.
I'd believed him.
Now I stared at Claire's photograph.
My stomach turned.
***
That evening, Daniel called.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
His voice was cheerful.
Too cheerful.
“How was the drive?” I asked.
“Long. Traffic was terrible.”
“Are you at the hotel?”
“Just checked in.”
I heard music behind him.
Glasses.
Laughter.
A woman's voice.
“Daniel, are you coming?”
He covered the phone.
I heard muffled words.
Then he returned.
“Sorry. Team dinner.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who's there?”
“Everyone.”
“Claire Bennett?”
Silence.
Then he laughed.
“Why would you ask that?”
“You've mentioned her before.”
“She's part of leadership, Amelia. Of course she's here.”
I stared at the kitchen wall.
“Okay.”
His tone sharpened.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Don't start this weekend. I need to focus.”
There it was.
The familiar reversal.
My question became his inconvenience.
“I won't keep you,” I said.
“Good. Love you.”
The call ended.
He hadn't waited for me to say it back.
***
At 9:18 p.m., Rachel texted.
Come stay with us tonight.
I almost refused.
Then I looked around the house.
The framed wedding photographs.
The sofa we'd chosen together.
The dining table where Daniel had promised we'd start trying for a baby when his career settled down.
Everything suddenly felt like a museum dedicated to a marriage I no longer recognized.
I packed an overnight bag.
Before leaving, I checked our shared account one more time.
A new charge appeared.
LAKE FOREST JEWELERS — $2,640.
My hands went cold.
Daniel hadn't bought me jewelry in three years.
May you like
I took a screenshot.
Then left.
