Greg worked as a foreman at an auto parts warehouse. His hours were steady, but he always complained about how tired he was. He was the one who started suggesting the sleepovers.

“Lily gets so lonely when you’re at the hospital all weekend, Ellen,” he had said to me one night, rubbing his neck. “Why don’t we let her stay at Linda’s with their girls?

It gives me a break to catch up on sleep, and she has fun.”

It sounded so thoughtful. It sounded like a loving husband trying to make things easier for his daughter and his tired wife. I agreed without a second thought. I trusted him. I trusted Linda with my life.

Lily loved that pink glittery sleeping bag. My mother had bought it for her sixth birthday. Every Friday night, Greg would pack Lily’s little overnight bag, roll up the sleeping bag, and drive her over to Linda’s.

I remember washing that sleeping bag on Monday mornings. Once, I noticed the faint, heavy smell of Greg’s sandalwood cologne on the fabric. I didn’t think anything of it back then. I just assumed he had hugged her tightly before leaving her there.

Now, sitting in my kitchen, that memory made me feel physically sick.

“How many times did you see Uncle Greg there, Lily?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

She held up her small hand and started counting on her sticky fingers. “Lots of times. Every time you work the night shift. He brings the pizza in the red box.”

After Lily went to play in her room, I sat at the kitchen table and opened my laptop. It took me three tries to log into our bank account because my fingers wouldn’t stop shaking.

I scrolled through our joint credit card statements for the last eight months. I had never looked closely at the small charges before. Greg always told me he was taking care of the utility bills and gas.

There it was. Row after row of transactions from the Domino’s on Secor Road. $45 here. $38 there. $52 on a Friday night.

It added up to over $2,300 in pizza orders. All of them were charged on Friday and Saturday nights. Every single one of those nights, I was on my feet in the emergency room, saving other people’s children while my husband was destroying my family.

My phone was sitting on the table. It looked like a weapon. I picked it up and called Linda.