Chapter 2 - The Woman on the PhoneEthan stared at me.
“You went into my father's study?”
“Yes.”
“That house was locked.”
“It was.”
He put the compass down.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Almost as though it might explode.
“Why were you there?”
“Because your mother asked me to help clear some things.”
“That was months ago.”
“I know.”
His jaw tightened.
“Did you find anything else?”
There it was.
Not what did you find?
Not what are you talking about?
He asked whether I found anything else.
I leaned back.
“Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not.”
“You look terrified.”
“Claire.”
His phone buzzed again.
He grabbed it too quickly.
I caught a glimpse of the screen.
Vanessa calling.
He rejected the call.
Then another message appeared.
We need to leave now.
I watched him read it.
“We?”
He said nothing.
“Does she know you're here?”
“Stop.”
“Does she know you're divorcing me tonight?”
“I said stop.”
I looked around the restaurant.
People were pretending not to stare.
The waiter had vanished.
The champagne had gone warm.
Our anniversary was already dead.
But Ethan still had one more thing to say.
“There’s something you don't understand.”
I laughed softly.
“No. I understand perfectly.”
“You don't.”
“You love her.”
His face hardened.
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“No?”
“It isn't about love.”
The words landed strangely.
“Then what is it about?”
He looked away.
I studied him.
“If you don't love her, why destroy six years of marriage for her?”
He didn't answer.
And that was when I realized Vanessa wasn't the reason.
She was part of the reason.
But not all of it.
Something larger was happening.
Something I hadn't seen.
I pulled the envelope from my purse.
“I wrote this for you.”
He stared at it.
“What is it?”
“A letter.”
“Claire, I don't want it.”
“I know.”
I tore it in half.
Then again.
Then again.
Four pages of memories became tiny white pieces on the table.
Ethan watched silently.
“I thought tonight was about losing a husband,” I said.
“It isn't.”
His eyes narrowed.
“It’s about finding out who you actually married.”
I reached for the compass.
“There's something inside.”
His face changed.
“What?”
I smiled.
“You heard me.”
He lunged toward it.
I pulled it back.
“Don't.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You have been lying to me for eight months.”
He lowered his voice.
“You have no idea what you're playing with.”
“Maybe I do.”
He stood.
“So that's it?”
“No.”
“What else do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
“You can't handle the truth.”
“Try me.”
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he leaned close.
“There are things about my family you were never supposed to know.”
My stomach tightened.
“Your family?”
“Yes.”
“Does Vanessa know?”
He didn't answer.
The restaurant door opened behind him.
A woman walked in.
Blonde.
Elegant.
Black coat.
She looked directly at our table.
Vanessa.
I recognized her immediately from the photographs I had accidentally found on Ethan's laptop.
She stopped three tables away.
Her eyes landed on me.
Then the compass.
She went white.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Terrified.
I turned back to Ethan.
“What does she know?”
He whispered:
“Claire, run.”
I blinked.
“What?”
He looked over his shoulder.
Vanessa had stopped moving.
And behind her stood a man in a gray suit.
A man I knew.
A man who had died four years ago.
May you like
My father.
Except he was supposed to be dead.
