Chapter 4: The Art of the Mask
The weeks that followed were the most difficult of my life. I had to inhabit the role of the devoted wife while being a spy in my own home. I cooked dinners, I listened to Mark’s boring stories about his day, and I watched him text Jessica under the table. Every touch, every kiss, felt like acid on my skin.
I became an expert at snooping. I discovered that Mark had been siphoning money from our joint savings into a secret offshore account for months. He wasn't just planning a life with Jessica; he was planning a heist.
Every night, I would meet James in the back of a parked car. We swapped data, emails, and financial records. We were two betrayed spouses, bound by hatred. I realized that James was just as ruthless as the people who betrayed us. He wasn't doing this for justice; he was doing it for control.
One evening, I saw a photo on Mark’s desk. It was a scan of the ultrasound. Jessica’s baby. I didn't feel jealousy. I felt pity for the child, who would be born into a web of deceit.
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“You’re distant, Anna,” Mark said that night, pulling me close. I stiffened. “I’m just tired, Mark. It’s been a long year.”
He kissed my cheek, and I wondered if he could feel the coldness in my blood
