Chapter 1
My husband missed our daughter's ultrasound to sleep with my best friend in our bed. He thought I would believe his excuse, but he had no idea what I was about to discover. And the woman hiding behind my maternity coats was only the beginning of the betrayal.
My name is Emily, and the day Damon underestimated me was the day he destroyed himself.
I walked through our front door with my daughter's ultrasound picture still in my hand.
Something fell in the bedroom upstairs.
Not a crash.
A small, guilty thud.
"Damon?"
Silence.
Then the floorboards creaked.
"I'm upstairs," he called.
His voice was much too cheerful.
I was seven months pregnant. My appointment had ended early because the clinic's next patient canceled, and Damon still believed I would be gone until noon.
I climbed the stairs slowly.
Our bedroom door was almost closed.
When I pushed it open, my husband stood beside our unmade bed, shirtless, pulling up his pants.
His belt hung loose.
His hair was mussed, and a red mark showed near his collarbone before he turned away.
"You're home early."
He snatched a white dress shirt from the floor.
"I spilled coffee, so I was changing."
I looked at the shirt.
No stain.
There wasn't a coffee cup on the dresser, the nightstand, or the bathroom counter.
But the room smelled of his cologne, warm skin, and a floral perfume I knew almost as well as my own.
Our fitted sheet had come loose.
One pillow lay on the floor.
The comforter was twisted at the foot of the bed.
Damon stepped between me and the mattress.
"How did the appointment go?"
His breathing was uneven.
I lowered my eyes.
That was when I noticed something beneath the upholstered bench.
Champagne lace.
Thin straps.
A tiny blue charm sewn near the shoulder.
I knew that camisole.
Six months earlier, Claire had held it up for me after her engagement dinner, laughing about how much Owen had paid for it.
"What are you saving it for?" I had asked.
"Our honeymoon," she whispered.
Now the same lace was crumpled beneath my bed.
My daughter moved inside me.
I placed my palm beneath my ribs, trying to steady myself.
Damon followed my gaze, but the bench blocked the lace from where he stood.
He hadn't seen what I had seen.
"How did the appointment go?" he asked again.
That morning, he had kissed my forehead and told me he couldn't come because of an important client call.
"Send me a picture if they get a good angle," he'd said.
Our daughter had turned toward the ultrasound screen.
For the first time, I had seen the curve of her nose and watched her tiny mouth open and close.
The technician said she was measuring perfectly.
I had watched alone.
And now the man who missed that moment stood in front of me, still struggling to finish dressing.
"Is she healthy?"
"Is she healthy?"
"She's healthy."
My voice shook.
Damon smiled.
"That's great."
Then I noticed our closet.
The door was open less than an inch.
Behind it hung my coats, including the pale green maternity coat Claire had helped me choose.
Something shifted behind the fabric.
I stood still.
A hand reached out and gripped the sleeve of my cream coat.
And on its ring finger, a diamond caught my eye.
I knew that diamond.
I had spent two Saturdays helping Owen choose it for Claire.
The woman hiding in my closet was my best friend of twelve years.
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