Chapter 4

I started feeling sick a few days later.

A dull headache turned into a raging fever.

Chills racked my body, then burning heat.

"I feel awful, Mark," I mumbled from the bed.

He touched my forehead, his brow furrowed with concern.

"You' re burning up. I' ll cancel my meetings."

"No, you have that critical investor meeting today, don' t you?" I said, trying to be the supportive wife.

"It' s fine, Sarah. You' re more important."

He promised to be home by noon, after checking in at the office for an hour.

Noon came and went.

One o' clock. Two.

I called him. Straight to voicemail.

I called again. Voicemail.

The fever was making me dizzy. My throat was raw.

Our housekeeper, Maria, found me like that, barely conscious.

She called an ambulance.

Mark and Leo rushed into the emergency room hours later, faces etched with worry and remorse.

"Sarah, oh my god, I' m so sorry," Mark said, grabbing my hand.

Leo looked pale and scared.

A series of unfortunate events, Mark explained.

His car wouldn' t start.

Then a flat tire on the loaner.

Urgent repairs at the office that couldn' t wait.

Unbelievable traffic on the way to the hospital.

It sounded plausible, a cascade of bad luck.

I was too weak to question it, too relieved to see them.

They stayed with me, attentive and caring, until I was discharged the next day with a diagnosis of a severe flu.

Back home, tucked into bed, I idly scrolled through Instagram.

Chloe Davis' s feed popped up.

A new post. From yesterday.

A picture of her, beaming, a birthday cake with lit candles in front of her.

Mark stood beside her, arm around her shoulder, smiling broadly.

Leo was there too, nestled between them, grinning, looking up at Chloe like she was the sun.

The caption read: "Best birthday surprise ever! Love my boys! ❤️"

The photo was timestamped. Yesterday afternoon.

While I was burning with fever, waiting for him.

While he was supposedly dealing with car trouble and urgent office repairs.

He was at Chloe' s studio.

Celebrating her birthday.

With our son.

Looking like a happy family.

My breath hitched. The phone nearly slipped from my shaking hand.

The world tilted, the carefully constructed reality of my life shattering into a million pieces.

It wasn' t bad luck.

It was a deliberate, cruel deception.