Chapter 2

Tamsin's POV

Once I decided on divorce and got in touch with a lawyer, I knew recording alone wouldn't cut it. I made myself stay cool and collect hard evidence of his affair. The next two weeks turned me into someone I didn't recognize. Someone who checked her husband's phone bill in the middle of the night and took pictures of his credit card statements when he was in the shower.

I hated every second of it, but I did it anyway.

The phone records came first. I waited until Steven fell asleep, then crept downstairs and logged into our account on the computer. My hands shook as I scrolled through the list of numbers. There it was—the same unfamiliar number, over and over. Late-night calls that lasted twenty minutes, thirty minutes, sometimes an hour. Calls made during his so-called overtime at work.

I took screenshots of everything.

Two days later, I followed him.

"I have to work late again tonight," Steven said over breakfast, not even looking up from his phone.

"Okay." I said.

"Right. See you tonight."

Jerry piped up from his bowl of cereal. "Work hard, Daddy!"

I dropped Jerry at school. Then I drove to Steven's office building and parked where I could see the exit.

He came out at six-thirty, but he didn't head to his car. He walked three blocks down the street and went into a restaurant, one of those trendy Italian places.

She was already there, waiting at a table by the window.

Michelle.

I knew her name because I'd looked her up after finding her number in Steven's contacts. Michelle Torres, twenty-nine, professional violinist. Her Instagram was full of concert photos and artsy shots of her with her instrument. She looked like someone who belonged in a magazine. Long blonde hair, perfect makeup, elegant even in casual clothes.

And right now she was smiling at my husband.

I sat in my car across the street and took pictures through my phone's zoom lens. Steven reaching across the table to hold her hand. Michelle laughing at something he said. The two of them leaning close together, intimate in a way that made my stomach turn.

How long has this been going on? How many times have I believed his lies?

The worst part came a few days later.

I was helping Jerry pack his backpack for school when I found it, a small bag of gummy bears tucked into the side pocket. Not the cheap kind from the grocery store. These were from that expensive candy shop downtown.

The wrapper had a note written in looping, feminine handwriting: "For my favorite little Jerry! ♡"

My hands went completely numb.

Jerry snatched the bag away when he saw me looking at it. "Those are mine!"

"Where did you get them?" I kept my voice gentle.

"A friend gave them to me." He clutched the bag to his chest.

"What friend?"

"Just a friend. You don't know her."

Her.

"Jerry—"

"Stop asking me questions!" He grabbed his backpack and ran downstairs, leaving me standing in his room.

Just like in that recording, he really did bring that woman into our son's life. This bag of candy is the most disgusting proof of it. Steven had introduced our six-year-old son to his mistress, and Jerry liked her enough to protect the secret of where the candy came from.

That night I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until there was nothing left. Then I washed my face, fixed my makeup, and went downstairs to make dinner like everything was fine.

I thought about it for several days, and finally decided I'm gonna lay it all out with Steve this Saturday.

Saturday night, Steven came home just after seven. I heard him in the hallway, heard Jerry run to greet him with an excited "Daddy! You're back!"

I waited until Jerry was settled in front of the TV. Then I walked into the living room and placed the divorce papers on the coffee table in front of Steven.

He'd been scrolling through his phone. When he saw the documents, he went very still.

"What is this?"

"What does it look like? I want a divorce." I said.

Steven picked up the papers, flipping through them faster and faster. When he looked up at me, his expression was cold. "You're serious."

"Yes."

"Why?" He laughed, "Let me guess. You found out about Michelle."

I didn't answer. I just pulled out my phone and showed him the photos, him and Michelle at the restaurant, holding hands, looking at each other the way lovers do.

His jaw tightened. "You followed me."

"You were cheating on me."

"So what?" He threw the papers back onto the table. "What did you expect, Tamsin? You trapped me into this marriage. You got pregnant on purpose and forced me to—"

"I didn't trap you!" The words burst out of me. "You're the one who refused to wear protection! I was on birth control but it's not perfect and I got pregnant and I didn't know what to do—"

"You could have gotten rid of it," Steven said flatly. "But no. You decided to have the baby because you knew I'd feel obligated to marry you. And I did. I proposed because it was the right thing to do, and I've spent six years living with that decision."

Is that really what he thinks? That I manipulated him?

"You proposed," I said slowly. "You asked me to marry you. I thought you loved me."

"I felt responsible. There's a difference." He stood up, towering over me now. "But fine. You want a divorce? We'll get a divorce. But don't think for one second that you're taking Jerry."

"He's my son!"

"He's my son," Steven cut me off. "And he wants to stay with me."

I felt like someone had punched me in the chest and knocked all the air out of my lungs. "Steven—"

"I've been a good father. I've provided for this family, and Jerry loves me." His smile was cruel. "What has Jerry said to you lately, Tamsin? That he wants to live with you? That he thinks you're a good mother? No. Because he knows the truth. You used him to trap me into this marriage, and now he's old enough to see who you really are. You think the court is going to give you custody when your own kid doesn't even want to live with you?"

That's not true. That's not true. Jerry is just confused. Steven has been poisoning him against me.

"See you in court," Steven said. He picked up his phone and walked out of the room.

I sank onto the couch, my whole body shaking.

After six years of marriage, six years of trying to make this work, trying to be a good wife and mother, this was how it ended. With my husband telling me I'd trapped him, that I'd ruined his life, that even our son didn't want me.