Chapter 3

Ophelia slid into the booth at the corner coffee shop, her hands still shaking.

Scarlett was already there, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her trench coat slung over the back of the seat. Her makeup was sharp, her jaw tight, the way she always got when she was ready to fight someone else's battles.

The second Ophelia sat down, Scarlett grabbed her wrist. "Okay, spill. Did you confront him last night? What did he say? Did he admit it?"

"Lower your voice." Ophelia glanced around the shop, her cheeks hot. She pulled her hand away, wrapping both around her water glass. "First off—you said you saw him again this morning. Where exactly?"

"Right out front of the Sapphire Sky." Scarlett slapped a hand to her forehead. "I know, I know, I didn't get a picture. I was driving, I almost rear-ended someone staring. But it was him, Ophelia. Same build, same walk, same stupid gray coat. I'd bet my car it was him."

Ophelia stared at her for a long, quiet second, then sighed. "Scarlett. It wasn't him."

Scarlett's mouth dropped open. "Are you kidding me? I saw him with my own two eyes!"

"You saw his back." Ophelia's voice was steady, even, the way she'd practiced on the drive over. "You didn't see his face. Matthew picked Katya up from school yesterday afternoon. Ms. Kim confirmed it. Katya confirmed it. There's no way he was at a hotel across town at the same time."

She held up her phone, pulling up Lucy's text from last night. "See? He was at the school. And for the record, Matthew doesn't even own a dark gray coat. He hates gray. Says it makes him look like a corporate drone."

Scarlett stared at the text, her jaw working. She sat back, crossing her arms, but she didn't look convinced. "What if the teacher's lying for him?"

Ophelia's fingers tightened around her glass. "Ms. Kim has no reason to lie. And Katya's four. She can't keep a lie straight to save her life."

"Ophelia, listen to me." Scarlett leaned forward again, her voice sharp and urgent.

"I'm not trying to ruin your marriage. I'm your friend. I've seen this a hundred times. Guys cheat, they lie, they pay off teachers and nannies and anyone else who can cover for them. The first rule of cheating is never get caught with your pants down, and the second is have an alibi lined up before you even step out the door."

Ophelia said nothing. She stared down at the table, her chest tight. Scarlett was her oldest friend. She'd been there through every breakup, every bad job, every terrible night of their 20s. She wasn't the type to make this up for drama.

But Matthew… Matthew was her husband. The man who'd worked three jobs to give her and Katya this life. He couldn't be that guy.

"So what do you want me to do?" She looked up, her voice tired. "Hire a private investigator? Follow him around like a crazy person?"

"Ask the other kids," Scarlett said it like it was obvious. "He can bribe one teacher. He can coach his own kid. But he can't get every four-year-old in that class to lie for him. Pick Katya up today. Pull one of her little friends aside, ask them if Matthew was there yesterday. Easy."

Ophelia's first instinct was to say no. It was insane. It was paranoid. It was everything she hated about the wives on those terrible reality shows.

But the image of that gray coat, the sound of Matthew's low voice saying our secret, kept playing in her head.

If she didn't find out for sure, she'd never stop wondering.

"Fine." She took a sip of her coffee, bitter and cold. "I'll pick her up this afternoon. I'll ask."

Scarlett nodded, satisfied. She changed the subject after that, chattering about the new guy she was seeing at her office, telling story after story to lighten the mood. Ophelia smiled and nodded, but she wasn't listening. Her head was full of what-ifs, sharp and heavy.

They left the coffee shop just before eleven. Ophelia drove home with the radio off, the silence loud in the car.

She was going to do it. She was going to pick Katya up early, find one of her little friends, and ask. And then she'd finally know. She'd either be able to laugh this whole thing off and apologize to Matthew for being crazy, or…

She didn't let herself think about the or.

When she got home, she went straight to the bedroom to change. She grabbed her keys off the dresser, already mentally mapping the fastest route to the school, when the doorbell rang.

She opened the door, and her stomach sank.

Ainsley Moore stood on the porch, Matthew's older sister, carrying two bulging grocery bags in each hand. She was five years older than Matthew, perfectly put together in her silk blouse and tailored slacks, and she'd never once thought Ophelia was good enough for her little brother.

"Ainsley. What are you doing here?" Ophelia stepped aside to let her in.

"Brought Matthew some of his favorite dishes." Ainsley dumped the bags on the dining room table like she owned the place, then turned to eye Ophelia's jacket. "Where are you off to?"

"To pick Katya up from school." Ophelia kept her voice polite, even.

"Nonsense, Matthew can pick her up." Ainsley waved a hand, already unpacking containers from the bags.

"I brought all his favorites—pot roast, his mom's carrot cake, fresh greens. You're gonna help me cook. He's been working so hard on that merger, he needs a hot meal when he gets home."

"Now?" Ophelia hesitated. She had plans. She needed to get to the school.

Ainsley's eyebrow went up. "You got somewhere better to be? Your husband works twelve-hour days to support this family, and you can't even spare an hour to cook him dinner? I swear, I don't know why he's always going on about how perfect you are."

Ophelia pressed her lips together. She'd had this fight a hundred times. Ainsley would never think she was good enough. She'd never see all the years Ophelia had worked right alongside Matthew, all the nights she'd stayed up with him when the company was failing. To Ainsley, she was just the girl who'd lucked into marrying her rich little brother.

"Fine." She slipped her jacket off, hanging it by the door. "I'll call Matthew and tell him to pick Katya up."

"Atta girl." Ainsley smiled, sharp and satisfied.

The next three hours dragged by. Ainsley hovered over her the whole time, criticizing her chopping technique, her seasoning, the way she stirred the gravy. Ophelia bit her tongue and did what she said, her mind stuck on the school, on Scarlett's words, on the question she needed to ask.

At five o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang.

Ophelia wiped her hands on a towel and hurried to answer it, relief flooding her. Finally. She could get Katya alone, ask her, get this over with.

Katya came barrelling in first, launching herself into Ophelia's arms. "Mommy! Guess what? Briar's coming over to play!"

Ophelia looked up. Matthew stood in the doorway, holding Katya's backpack, and next to him was a tiny little girl with two braids and a pink bunny backpack, clinging to his hand.

"Briar's parents are stuck late at work." Matthew stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. "Ms. Kim asked if we could watch her for a couple of hours. I said sure, figured the girls would have fun."

Ophelia's heart skipped a beat.

Briar. Katya's best friend. She was in Katya's class. She'd been there yesterday.

This was her chance.

"Katya, go show Daddy the cake we made, okay?" She patted Katya's back, her voice bright. "Tell him you helped stir the frosting."

"Okay!" Katya grabbed Matthew's hand, tugging him toward the kitchen. "Daddy, come see! Aunty Ainsley brought cake!"

Matthew laughed, letting Katya pull him away. He glanced back at Ophelia, smiling, and winked.

As soon as they were gone, Ophelia knelt in front of Briar. She smiled, soft and warm, keeping her voice gentle so she wouldn't scare the little girl.

"Hi, Briar. Can I ask you a quick question?"

Briar blinked up at her, big dark eyes wide and curious. She nodded.

Ophelia's heart hammered in her chest. She took a breath.

"Yesterday afternoon—did Katya's daddy come to your kindergarten class to pick her up?"

Briar tilted her head, thinking hard. She scrunched up her little face, and for a second Ophelia thought she wouldn't answer.

Then the little girl shook her head, slow and sure.

"No."