There he was. Everett stepping out of a black car in front of the Grand Marlowe, his hand resting casually on the lower back of a woman wearing a cream coat.
In the next image, they sat at a candlelit table, leaning toward each other in a way that required no interpretation.
He was smiling. Not the practiced smile he used at formal events. This one was unguarded, relaxed, almost boyish.
I had not seen that expression directed at me in years. Then I opened the third photo.
The woman lifted her hair behind one ear, and the light caught a familiar shape at her throat.
The sapphire pendant. The one he said had been returned.
My vision narrowed as I zoomed in, recognizing the asymmetry in the chain, the exact setting I had once seen online.
He had not returned it. He had reassigned it. I closed the laptop slowly and placed both hands on the floor, steadying myself as the baby shifted heavily inside me.
Numbers had told me he was cheating. That necklace told me he had lied to my face with ease.
I typed three words back to Victor. “Find her identity.” His reply came quickly. “Already working on it.”
The next morning, Everett moved through the house as if nothing had changed.