He looked at the screen. The color drained from his face so fast I thought he might faint.

“Let me explain,” Mark said, his voice cracking.

“Explain the necklace,” I said, my voice quiet and deadly calm. “Explain the roses. And explain why that woman thinks I am d*ad.”

He sank into the chair opposite me, burying his face in his hands. He started to sob, but I felt absolutely nothing. No pity. No anger. Just a cold, empty void.

“It started because your mother told me to,” he muttered.

I froze. “My mother?”

“Three years ago, my firm was auditing my accounts,” Mark stammered, looking at me with red, terrified eyes. “I had made some bad personal investments. I owed over $80,000. I was going to jail, Claire. I went to your mother, Evelyn, to beg for a loan. I was terrified you would find out and leave me.”

He took a deep breath, wiping his nose. “Evelyn didn’t want the embarrassment of a divorce. You know how she is. She’s obsessed with her reputation at the country club. She told me she would pay off my debt, and she would pay me an extra $2,500 a month from your late father’s estate trust to stay in the marriage. The only condition was that we had to pretend to be the perfect, happy couple at her family events.”

“And Elena?” I asked.

“Your mother introduced us,” he whispered, looking down at the table. “She told me she ‘didn’t care what I did on the side’ to keep myself happy, as long as I kept up appearances for her friends. She said you were too boring to keep a man anyway. She was the one who suggested I tell Elena you were d*ad so there wouldn’t be any drama. She even helped me cover it up.”

My mother. The woman who had spent my entire life telling me I wasn’t pretty enough, smart enough, or successful enough. She had literally paid my husband to betray me, all to protect her social standing in Grand Rapids.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I stood up, walked to our bedroom, packed a single suitcase with my clothes, and left. I checked into a cheap motel near the highway.

But I didn’t file for divorce the next day. I knew that if I just got a simple divorce, they would both win. Mark would get a settlement, and my mother would pay off the scandal and keep her perfect life. I wanted something else. I wanted justice.