He looked at me as if I were a stranger, someone he had never shared a bed with.

“You’ve been planning this,” he said.

“I’ve been watching you,” I corrected. “For eighteen months.”

I remembered the smell of foreign perfume on his collar, the late-night texts he thought I didn’t see.

I remembered the way he smiled at his phone while we sat at the dinner table.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” he said, his voice dropping to a plea.

“You made your choice when you brought Bianca into our accounts,” I said.

The phone on the counter buzzed again.

The screen lit up with Elliot Crane’s name.

Graham didn’t reach for it this time.

“Answer it,” I said. “Elliot doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Graham’s hand trembled as he picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear.

“Elliot,” he said.

I watched his face change from pale to gray.

He didn’t say another word; he just listened to the voice on the other end of the line.

After a minute, he lowered the phone and let it drop onto the floor.