I looked at him.

“A performance bonus.”

“Yes.”

“Your assistant received a $110,000 necklace as a performance bonus?”

Selina’s cheeks flushed.

Flynn lowered his voice.

“Mabel, go home.”

I didn’t move.

“How much is her apartment?”

His face changed.

That told me everything.

Selina looked at him.

I repeated the question.

“How much do you pay for her apartment?”

“Mabel—”

“How much?”

He rubbed his forehead.

“Thirty-two hundred.”

“Per month?”

Silence.

I nodded slowly.

Then I looked at Selina.

“How long?”

Neither answered.

“How long has my husband been sleeping with you?”

Flynn said, “Enough.”

“No. I think I’ve had enough. How long?”

Selina looked at the floor.

Flynn finally whispered,

“Two years.”

The room seemed to tilt.

Two years.

The exact amount of time since I’d left my career.

Two years earlier, Flynn had sat across from me at our kitchen table with my hands in his.

Rose was three.

My firm had offered me a promotion.

Partner track.

More travel, more responsibility, more money.

Flynn had smiled and said, “Why are we both killing ourselves? I make enough. Stay home for a while. Let me take care of you.”

I had hesitated.

He kissed my forehead.

“Trust me.”

I had.

God, I had.

I looked at him now.

“You convinced me to leave my career the same year this started.”

He looked away.

Something inside me went completely still.

Selina whispered, “Mabel, I never meant—”

“Please don’t tell me what you meant.”

Flynn stepped between us.

“Don’t humiliate her.”

That sentence hurt more than finding her on his lap.

I stared at my husband.

“I’m humiliating her?”

“Mabel, you’re emotional.”

Behind him, on the laptop, thirty employees were still connected.

I nodded toward the screen.

“You should probably worry about something else.”

Flynn turned.

His face drained.

“The meeting.”

“Still live.”

He lunged for the computer.

The screen went black.

Too late.

Thirty employees had just watched the CEO of Vance Global defend his mistress against his wife while admitting that company money might have financed a $110,000 diamond necklace.

Flynn stood with one hand on the laptop.

I set the dinner bag on his desk.

“Your salmon is getting cold.”

Then I walked out.

I didn’t cry until Rose was asleep.

She had climbed into my lap that evening and shown me a drawing of our family.

Three stick figures beneath a yellow sun.

Daddy.

Mommy.

Rose.

“I made Daddy tallest,” she said proudly.

“Of course you did.”

“He protects us.”

My throat closed.

I kissed her hair.

“Go brush your teeth, sweetheart.”

Later, I sat beside her bed until her breathing became slow and peaceful.

Only after I closed her door did I allow myself to break.

I went downstairs, stood in the kitchen and pressed both palms against the marble counter.

Two years.

Every late meeting.

Every conference.

Every Saturday emergency.

Every time Flynn had rolled away from me in bed saying he was exhausted.

Every time he’d acted irritated when I asked why he smelled like perfume.

Every moment rearranged itself in my memory.

And suddenly I saw my marriage for what it had become.

Not a partnership.

A controlled environment.