Chapter 4

The attorney didn’t immediately ask why I wanted to leave. "Are you safe right now?" she asked. "Yes." "Do you need to return to the marital home tonight?" "I need my identification and medication." "Take someone you trust with you. Only remove your personal belongings. Don’t transfer large amounts from any joint accounts, and don’t destroy or hide anything that belongs to both of you." I looked through the glass doors at Brooke. She had gotten out of her car and was hurrying toward me. "What else?" "Save the broadcast footage and any messages connected to tonight. Take screenshots of your current account balances. From this point forward, keep important communication in writing whenever possible." The attorney introduced herself as Evelyn Ross. She scheduled a consultation for nine the next morning and texted me her office address. By the time I ended the call, Brooke had reached me. She didn’t ask why I was still carrying an unopened gift. She didn’t tell me Mason had probably made a mistake in the heat of the moment. She took my coat from my arm. "Let’s get in the car." I stared out the window during the drive home. Notifications kept appearing on my phone. Tessa had posted three photos. In one, she and Mason held the trophy together while Oliver stood between them. Her caption was only four words. [He kept his promise.] Mason hadn’t liked the post or asked her to take it down. At least, not yet. Brooke parked in front of my house. The windows were dark. Mason was clearly still at the celebration. "I’m coming inside with you," she said. "Okay." I didn’t argue. Brooke stayed in the living room while I opened the safe in Mason’s study. I removed my passport, birth certificate, a copy of our marriage certificate, and my tax records. I left all of Mason’s documents untouched. In the bedroom, I packed enough clothes for two weeks. Then I added toiletries, my work laptop, chargers, and the prenatal vitamins my doctor had prescribed. The pills rattled softly as I placed the bottle in my bag. Brooke stood in the doorway. "Are you going to tell him?" I knew what she meant. My hand paused over the pocket holding the blood test results. "I was going to tell him tonight." "And now?" "I don’t know." Brooke didn’t tell me to stay. She didn’t push me to announce the pregnancy. She stepped into the closet and pulled my suitcase down from the top shelf. "Then come to my place first. You can decide everything else tomorrow." I opened my nightstand. Beneath the anniversary card Mason had given me the year before were my fertility records and an appointment reminder for next month. I gathered all my medical paperwork and placed it in a folder. The blood test results went on top. As I picked them up, my phone buzzed. Mason had sent a message. [The team needs to put out a statement by eight tomorrow morning. When you get home, write something supportive and send it to me first.] I read it twice. He hadn’t asked where I was. He hadn’t asked whether Brooke had found me. Another message followed. [Don’t turn one misunderstanding into a bigger problem. Tonight belongs to the team.] I put my phone on the bed and kept packing. A championship-week schedule sat in my desk drawer. Airport pickups, hotel reservations for relatives, celebration dinners, family credentials, and private events. I had confirmed every detail over the past two months. Mason’s parents were due to arrive the next morning and stay at a hotel for four nights. Their flight details, hotel confirmation, Diane’s Tuesday appointment, and the driver’s number were all in the family calendar I managed. I gathered the reservations that had already been paid for and couldn’t be canceled, placed them in one folder, and forwarded it to Mason. I didn’t rearrange anything for him. I didn’t add instructions. Then I texted his mother. [I’m staying somewhere else for now. Please coordinate tomorrow’s airport pickup, your hotel stay, and Tuesday’s appointment directly with Mason. I’ve sent him the current information.] She called almost immediately. I didn’t answer. Explaining tonight would only turn into another conversation about why I should be patient with Mason. I opened my employer’s payroll portal and redirected my next paycheck to the account I had kept from before our marriage. I didn’t touch the money in our joint account. I only saved a screenshot of the current balance in the folder Evelyn had told me to create. Mason had his own income and credit cards. He didn’t depend on me financially. He had simply grown used to every detail of his life being handled before he noticed it needed attention. By midnight, my suitcase was in Brooke’s trunk. I returned to the living room. The display cabinet near the fireplace held Mason’s awards, game balls, and framed photographs. The center shelf had been left empty for the championship trophy he planned to bring home tonight. Mason had waited up in this room the night before my first big presentation, listening while I practiced with my notes spread across the rug. In the morning, he’d made breakfast and put my missing car keys beside my plate. I stood in front of the cabinet and removed my wedding ring. It slid off easily, leaving a pale line around my finger. I placed it in the middle of the empty shelf. Beside it, I left a note with Evelyn’s name, office number, and the time of my appointment. Then I took out the white envelope. The blood test report had been folded twice. I opened it, smoothed the page flat, and placed it inside. I folded the number twelve baby onesie and added it to the envelope. Before sealing it, I looked at the words stitched across the fabric. [DADDY’S LITTLE CHAMPION] If I sent Mason a picture now, he might come home immediately. He might put down his champagne, leave Tessa and Oliver, and rush back to this house. But I wasn’t going to use our baby to pull my husband away from another woman. I sealed the envelope and placed it beside my ring. Brooke waited by the front door without rushing me. I checked the back door and picked up my bag. My suitcase was already outside with Brooke. Before leaving, I exported a copy of the family calendar for Mason and turned off its reminders on my phone. The appointments didn’t disappear. I simply would no longer be the person reminding everyone, rearranging everything, and making sure it all happened. Another message came from Mason. [Eight tomorrow morning. Don’t forget the statement.] Standing in the entryway, I typed with one hand. [I’m done helping you prove you didn’t hurt me.] Then I left my house key in the tray by the door and went out to Brooke’s car. Brooke’s guest room was small, with only a low table beside the bed. She had changed the sheets and left a glass of water and a package of crackers on the table. "I won’t lock my door," she said. "Call me if you need anything." After showering, I lay in the unfamiliar bed, unable to sleep. A little after one, I silenced the group chats and social media alerts. I left calls and direct messages enabled. At 1:17 a.m., my screen lit up again. Mason had sent me a photo. The championship trophy was still sitting on the floor in front of the display cabinet. My wedding ring rested on the note with Evelyn’s name and office number. Beside it lay the open white envelope. My blood test results had been spread across the shelf. My name and the bold confirmation line were clearly visible. His first message read: [Where are you?] Ten seconds later, another appeared. [You’re pregnant?]