Chapter 3

I made the drive to my parents' house alone. The moment I walked through the door, my daughter ran up and wrapped her arms around my legs, asking for her mom.

Looking at her innocent face broke my heart.

"Sweetheart, if Daddy and Mommy lived in different houses, who would you want to live with?"

On the highway drive over, my mind was already set. I was divorcing Rachel.

The sweeter our past had been, the more disgusting the truth felt.

There was no way in hell I was leaving my daughter with a woman like that.

Emma tilted her head, confused. My mom walked past, heard my words, and immediately scooped Emma into her arms, scowling at me.

"What kind of nonsense are you telling the child? Rachel works around the clock to support this family! You should be supporting her, not talking nonsense!"

My mom had always treated Rachel like her own daughter. When she found out Rachel wasn't coming, she blamed me and insisted I call her right away.

Emma stood beside me, staring up with big, hopeful eyes. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tapped the FaceTime button.

I assumed Rachel would let it ring out with some lame excuse like before. But after just a few rings, the call connected.

When the video popped up, I blinked. She was in our apartment.

I had literally seen her leave the firm with Lucas a few hours ago.

Did she actually remember she had a daughter and decide against going to the boutique hotel?

I kept quiet, watching her smile and chat with Emma while my parents chimed in.

On the screen, we still looked like the picture-perfect, happy family we had always been.

Noticing my silence, Rachel looked at me with genuine concern.

"Ethan, are you okay? You look pale."

The worry on her face looked completely real. Watching it made me want to throw up.

"Just a little carsick from the drive."

Hearing that, she immediately rattled off remedies, telling me to drink warm tea and lie down.

Just as I was about to walk away, a loud crash echoed from her end—something heavy hitting the floor.

Rachel’s expression instantly froze. She forced a rigid smile.

"A friend went out of town for the holidays and asked me to watch her cat for a couple of days. Let me go check if it knocked a mug over."

She stood up and hung up in a hurry.

The movement was quick, but it wasn't quick enough to hide the fresh, dark hickey on her collarbone.

My phone pinged with a notification from the bakery's online delivery platform.

It was a review Lucas had left thirty minutes ago.

Cake was delicious, my girlfriend loved it. We got a little messy all over her apartment though, haha.

Attached were three photos. In the bottom corner of one shot, an opened condom wrapper sat right at the top of our living room trash can.

A stabbing pain hit my chest.

They hadn't skipped the hotel to be responsible. She had brought him straight into our home.

How many times had Rachel brought this kid into our house over the past year? How many times had they rolled around in my bed? The thought made me physically sick.

Seeing my grayish face, my mom rushed over to ask what was wrong.

I waved her off, swallowing down the bitter rage.

My mom had a weak heart. If I told her about Rachel right now, she wouldn't be able to handle the shock.

I stepped out onto the balcony. I was ready to dial Rachel and scream at her, but something stopped me.

I pulled up Lucas’s review and zoomed in on the photo again.

There, reflected on the wall behind the trash can, was our framed wedding portrait hanging in the living room.

He knew. He knew all along that she was a married woman.

I opened Instagram, pulled up Lucas’s profile, and sent him a DM:

Are you free? We need to talk.

I’m Rachel’s husband. The legal one she’s been married to for seven years.