Then appeared again.
Finally, the reply came.
“Someone who knows Lucas is not the only one lying.”
I sat down slowly.
The house felt different now. Too quiet. Too open. I suddenly noticed every small sound: the refrigerator humming in the kitchen, the faint tick of the wall clock, the distant bark of a dog somewhere down the street.
For three days, I had believed I understood the shape of the betrayal. Lucas had lied. Lucas had planned to leave. Lucas had a pregnant mistress. Lucas wanted our money.
It was ugly, but it was simple.
Now, suddenly, nothing felt simple.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I let it ring twice, watching the screen as though it might reveal the caller’s face if I stared hard enough.
On the third ring, I answered.
For a moment, no one spoke.
