Chapter 6: The Woman on the Other Side
Carol was already shaking her head before I lowered the phone from my ear.
"Don't," she said.
"Whatever she's selling, you don't need to buy it."
"She said he lied to her too."
"Of course she said that.
That's what you say."
I looked at the number on my screen.
"She called me.
She didn't have to do that."
"Jen —"
"If she wanted to disappear, she could have.
Mark's the one with legal exposure right now.
She has no reason to call me unless she actually has something."
Carol pressed her lips together.
She didn't agree.
But she pulled out a chair and sat down, which meant she wasn't going to stop me either.
I called back.
Cassandra answered on the first ring.
I asked her to meet me that afternoon.
She said yes without hesitating.
I named a coffee shop three blocks from my office — public, neutral, somewhere I knew the staff.
She agreed to that too.
She was already there when I arrived.
Early thirties, dark hair pulled back, a blazer over a plain shirt.
She looked tired in a specific way — not from lack of sleep, but from carrying something heavy for too long.
She stood when she saw me come in.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
I sat down across from her without answering.
She wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
"I met Mark fourteen months ago.
At a conference.
He told me he was separated.
That the marriage had been over for years, that you were both just waiting for the right moment to make it official." She looked at the table.
"I believed him.
I shouldn't have, but I did."
"When did you find out the truth?"
"Six weeks ago.
I ran into someone from his firm at an event.
She mentioned his wife — mentioned you, by name, mentioned the promotion you were going for.
I went home and looked you up." Her jaw tightened.
"He'd shown me a photo once.
Said it was an old colleague.
It was you."
I kept my voice level.
"What do you want from me, Cassandra?"
"Nothing." She met my eyes.
"I want to give you something.
Mark has a second phone.
He used it for everything — messages to me, messages to other people, financial transfers I didn't understand at the time but that I think you will." She slid a piece of paper across the table.
A number.
A carrier name.
An account ID.
"I wrote down everything I could remember.
I don't know if it's enough.
But I thought you should have it."
I looked at the paper.
Then I looked at her.
"Other people," I said.
"You said messages to other people."
She nodded once, slowly.
"I don't think I was the first.
And I don't think the financial piece was small."
I folded the paper and put it in my bag, next to the lease agreement.
"Why are you doing this?" I said.
She was quiet for a moment.
"Because he made me a part of something I didn't agree to be part of.
And because you spent fourteen years building something real, and he spent eight months trying to take it apart." She picked up her cup.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me.
I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't get away with it."
I stood up to leave.
Then I stopped.
"Did you love him?" I said.
She thought about it honestly, which I hadn't expected.
"I loved who I thought he was," she said.
"I don't think that person exists."
I walked out into the afternoon and called Richard before I reached the corner.
"I have a phone number," I said.
"A second device.
And I think there's a financial angle we haven't looked at yet."
A beat of silence.
"Come in tomorrow morning," Richard said.
May you like
"First thing.
And Jennifer — bring your own lawyer."
