The number hit me harder than the kiss. Five million. Two years of marriage. A life together. My Sunday mornings making pancakes. My texts asking if he’d eaten yet. My nights waiting for him to come home. Five million.
“Who are you?” I asked Julian.
He looked at Richard. “The brother of the first woman he tried to erase.”
The pregnant mistress stopped crying. “First?”
Richard yelled: “Shut up, Julian!”
That’s when we all knew it was true.
They took us to the District Attorney’s office that same night. Outside, the city was still alive: cars speeding down California Street, hot dog stands lit by bright white bulbs, couples leaving bars as if nothing had happened. I rode in a patrol car without handcuffs, my black dress clinging to my body and my makeup running.
In the waiting room, the pregnant woman sat far away from me. Her name was Audrey. Twenty-nine years old. Seven months pregnant. And wearing the face of someone who had just discovered she wasn’t the chosen one, but the next one.
“I didn’t know,” she whispered.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t comfort her. I still had his kiss stuck in my throat.
Julian handed me a glass of water. “My sister’s name was Rachel,” he said. “She dated Richard five years ago. He promised to marry her, too. He convinced her to sign papers, too. Then she had a car accident on the highway up in Tahoe.”
I felt cold. “Did she die?”
“No. She was in a coma for three weeks. When she woke up, he had already cashed out a smaller insurance policy and vanished.”
“Why didn’t you report him?”
“We did. It went nowhere. He had connections, money, and the face of an honest man.”
I looked toward the interrogation room where Richard was giving his statement. “And now?”
Julian clenched his jaw. “Now he made the mistake of trying it with you while I was already tracking him.”
Sarah called us in. The statement took hours. Questions. Dates. Messages. Bank statements. I handed over my phone. His lies were all there: “I miss you,” “I left late,” “My meeting ran long.” There were also my anniversary photos, the reservation, the receipts.
This Post Has One Comment
Comments are closed.