My vision blurred. My chest felt like it was caving in. My entire adult life, my marriage, my children—we were just a cover story. A waiting room.

I flipped frantically to the end of the book. The final entry was dated yesterday.

It was written in a rushed, frantic scrawl, completely different from his usual penmanship.

“I’ve loved M since before the wedding. I married Sarah because M told me to. Everything went according to plan. Richard’s heart gave out on Tuesday. The funeral is over. We are finally ready for the next phase. Nineteen years of waiting, and I finally get to bring my real wife home.”

I read that line six times. Richard’s heart gave out. I dropped the book. It hit the concrete with a heavy, sickening thud.

I didn’t cry. I think I was too far in shock to produce tears. I grabbed my car keys and practically flew out of the driveway. I don’t remember the drive to his office. I ran every yellow light, my mind spinning violently, trying to piece together a puzzle I didn’t even know I was a part of.

I sprinted past the receptionist to his executive suite, only to find the lights off and the door locked. His secretary, a sweet older woman named Stacy, looked up from her computer with a mix of confusion and pity when I breathlessly demanded to know where David was.

She told me he had cleared his schedule. He left at noon, saying he was taking a long, much-needed weekend trip to the coast to clear his head after a tragic loss in the family.

“Did he go alone?” I asked, my voice completely foreign to my own ears. It sounded hollow. Dead.

Stacy hesitated. She looked at her monitor, then back at me, clearly uncomfortable. “No… he left with Margaret.

He told me you guys had an arrangement. I’m so sorry, Sarah. He said you knew they were going.”

Margaret. M. The air completely left my lungs. The room started to spin.

I’d known Margaret for twenty-two years. She is my older sister.

She stood next to me at the altar. She gave the maid of honor toast at my reception, crying as she raised her champagne glass and told the whole room I had finally found ‘the one.’ She had held my hand in the delivery room. She spent holidays at my dining table.