Chapter 5: The Woman Who Had Been in My Home
I didn't sleep.
I lay in the dark on my side of the bed and stared at the ceiling and thought about every work function I had attended in the past year.
Every office party, every team dinner, every casual Friday evening where Daniel's colleagues had drifted through our living room with glasses of wine and plates of food I had spent the afternoon preparing.
I thought about a woman with dark hair who had admired the photo wall in our hallway.
She had stopped in front of it for a long moment — our wedding photo, the kids as babies, the trip to Maine two summers ago — and said, *You have such a beautiful family.*
I had thanked her.
I had offered her more wine.
I called Dana at seven in the morning, before the kids were up.
"Tell me everything," I said.
"Are you sure you want it all at once?"
"Tell me."
Dana had spent the night pulling threads.
She had a friend who worked in the same building as Daniel's firm.
The friend knew Kristin Hale by sight.
According to the friend, Kristin and Daniel had been seen leaving the building together on multiple evenings.
Lunch, twice a week, at a place three blocks from the office.
And four months ago, at a conference in Chicago that Daniel had told me was a two-day internal strategy meeting — Kristin had been there too.
"He told me it was a leadership retreat," I said.
"He said it was just senior staff."
"She's not senior staff," Dana said.
"She's a project coordinator."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
The house was still quiet.
Through the window I could see the backyard — the kids' bikes leaning against the fence, the garden I had planted last spring, the ordinary evidence of a life I had believed in completely.
"There's something else," Dana said.
"Say it."
"Her sister reached out to me last night.
She found my number through a mutual contact.
She said Kristin has been wanting to end it for two months.
That she told Daniel it was over and he refused to accept it."
I went still.
"What do you mean, refused?"
"I mean he kept showing up.
Kept calling.
Her sister said Kristin was scared enough that she started keeping a record."
"A record of what?"
"Messages.
Dates.
Everything."
I pressed my hand flat against the kitchen table.
The wood was cool under my palm.
"Does Kristin know who I am?" I asked.
"Yes," Dana said.
"She's known for months.
Her sister said she's been trying to figure out how to reach you."
I looked at the back door.
I thought about a woman I had never met, keeping a record of my husband's behavior because she was afraid of him, wanting to reach me, not knowing how.
"Can you get me her number?" I said.
"Olivia—"
"I'm not going to confront her.
I just need to hear it from her directly.
Whatever she knows — I need to hear it."
A pause.
"I'll ask."
We hung up.
I made coffee.
I heard Daniel moving around in the guest room above me — the creak of the floor, the sound of the shower running.
In twenty minutes he would come downstairs and we would exist in the same kitchen and I would have to decide what face to wear.
He came down in his work clothes.
Suit jacket over his arm.
He poured himself coffee without looking at me.
"I have an eight o'clock," he said.
"I know."
He picked up his keys.
Stopped at the kitchen doorway.
"Are we going to talk about this tonight?"
"We're going to talk about it," I said.
"But not tonight."
He nodded.
He left.
I sat with my coffee and waited for Dana to call back.
She called at eight forty-three.
"Kristin will meet you," she said.
"Today.
Whenever you're ready."
May you like
I set my mug down.
"Send me the address."
