Chapter 6 - The Mistress Who Knew Too Much
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I stared at Paige's messages for almost ten minutes.
Part of me wanted to delete them.
Another part wanted to call her and ask why she had been comfortable wearing my husband's sweatshirt in the home where I had been trying to build a family.
But the last sentence kept pulling my attention back.
Your house.
Not Evan's house.
Not our marriage.
My house.
The thing I had been trying to protect since I discovered the bank application.
Leah was sitting across from me when I finally replied.
What do you know?
Paige answered immediately.
Can we speak privately?
I showed Leah.
She didn't tell me what to do.
She simply asked whether I wanted her to stay nearby.
I nodded.
Then I called Paige.
She answered on the first ring.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, she said, "Rachel?"
"Yes."
Her voice sounded different from the one I'd heard in my kitchen.
Less confident.
Less bright.
"I'm sorry about your pregnancy."
I looked down at my left hand.
My wedding ring had left a pale indentation where I'd recently removed it.
"How did you find out?"
"Evan told me yesterday."
I waited.
"He said you had a miscarriage."
"And?"
"And that you were having trouble coping."
I laughed without humor.
"Did he mention that he left me alone?"
She didn't answer.
"Did he mention the hospital bracelet?"
"No."
"Did he mention you were in my kitchen when I came home?"
"Rachel, I know."
"No, Paige, you don't know."
My voice was steady now.
"You don't know what it feels like to walk into your own home after losing a pregnancy and discover another woman wearing your husband's clothes."
She inhaled.
"I shouldn't have been there."
"No."
"I knew he was married."
I stared at the wall.
At least she hadn't insulted me with a lie.
"Then why were you there?"
"Because he told me your marriage was basically over."
I closed my eyes.
"And you believed him?"
"I wanted to."
Those four words were the first completely honest thing I had heard from anyone involved in the affair.
Paige continued quietly.
"He said you stayed together because of the house and because your families expected it."
"We were trying to have a baby."
"I didn't know that."
"He didn't tell you?"
"He said you had stopped trying."
I felt sick.
Evan and I had spent years discussing fertility treatment.
He had attended appointments.
He had seen me cry after failed cycles.
He had held my hand while doctors explained odds and options.
And somewhere along the way, he had told his mistress a different story.
One where our marriage had already ended.
One where I was simply a woman refusing to leave a house.
"How long?" I asked.
Paige hesitated.
"Since last December."
I looked toward the calendar on the refrigerator.
Ten months.
Nearly an entire year.
I remembered the Christmas party when Evan had complained that I was too exhausted to socialize.
I remembered Valentine's Day, when he'd said he was traveling for work.
I remembered the anniversary dinner he'd canceled because a client needed him.
I had been counting ovulation dates.
He had been counting hotel nights.
"Why are you calling me now?"
Paige was silent for a moment.
"Because the Charleston project is not what Evan told you."
"Explain."
"My marketing agency was hired to help launch a boutique hospitality development."
I had heard about Evan's interest in hospitality consulting.
He'd been talking for months about expanding beyond his regular clients into ownership partnerships.
I had supported the idea in principle.
I had also told him we couldn't risk the house to finance a speculative project.
"The development group has several investors," Paige continued.
"Evan was supposed to contribute a substantial amount of capital."
"How much?"
"I don't know the final figure."
"Then what do you know?"
She exhaled.
"I helped prepare the investor presentation."
I gripped the phone.
"Rachel, your name was in it."
I said nothing.
"It listed you as a co-owner of the Oak Park property and described the house as part of the proposed financing."
My stomach tightened.
"Did Evan tell you I agreed?"
"He said everything was being handled."
"That's not an answer."
"No."
She paused.
"He told me you were comfortable with the arrangement."
I closed my eyes.
"Did he show you my signature?"
"Not directly."
"Then why did you believe him?"
"Because I wanted the project to succeed."
There it was again.
The truth without decoration.
Paige hadn't known everything.
But she had chosen not to question the things that benefited her.
I appreciated her honesty.
I did not mistake it for innocence.
"Why change your mind?"
Her voice became quieter.
"Because yesterday Evan got a call from his bank."
I looked toward Leah.
She was watching my face.
"He was furious," Paige continued.
"He said you'd challenged the home equity paperwork and gotten lawyers involved."
"What did he say about the paperwork?"
"He kept insisting you'd agreed to it."
"And you believed that?"
"At first."
"What changed?"
Paige hesitated.
"He said he wished you'd stayed out of the accounts until after the trip."
I felt a coldness move through my chest.
"Those were his words?"
"Yes."
"He wanted the financing settled before I knew?"
"He said the investment opportunity couldn't wait."
I looked at the folder on my desk.
The application timestamp.
My hospital records.
The money missing from our savings.
None of it was accidental.
There was a pattern.
"Do you still have the presentation?" I asked.
"Yes."
"And messages about the project?"
"Some."
"Would you provide copies of the materials you prepared and messages you were part of to my attorney?"
A long silence followed.
"I need to understand what I'm allowed to share."
"Then get advice."
"I will."
She paused again.
"Rachel, I'm not calling because I expect you to forgive me."
"Good."
"I made choices I should be ashamed of."
"Yes."
"I knew he had a wife."
"Yes."
"But I didn't know he was doing this with your house."
I looked at the wedding photograph on the mantel.
Evan and I were laughing beneath a canopy of white flowers.
My parents stood beside us.
His mother smiled beautifully for the camera.
I wondered how many things had looked perfect because I hadn't yet learned where to look.
"Paige."
"Yes?"
"Did his mother know about the financing?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "Helen introduced two of the investors."
I swallowed.
"And Brooke?"
"She was helping organize the launch events."
I looked toward the ceiling.
So the four smiling people in the photograph weren't simply traveling together.
They were celebrating a business venture built around financial decisions I had never agreed to.
My marriage had become the collateral.
Before ending the call, Paige said something else.
"Rachel, Evan is coming back early."
I sat straighter.
"What?"
"He booked a flight home this afternoon."
"Why?"
"He said he needs to get things under control."
I almost laughed.
That was Evan's language.
Control.
Not repair.
Not apologize.
Control.
After we hung up, I sent Simone a summary of the conversation.
I didn't forward rumors.
I didn't embellish anything.
I wrote down what Paige had told me and marked what still needed independent confirmation.
Then I called my parents.
I told them I might need them to stay nearby that evening.
At 7:23 p.m., headlights swept across the living room windows.
Evan's black SUV pulled into the driveway.
I watched him climb out.
He looked tired.
His jacket was wrinkled.
He carried the same expensive suitcase that had appeared in Brooke's photograph.
For one fleeting second, I remembered how I used to rush toward the door when he returned from a trip.
I had once loved the sound of his keys turning in the lock.
Now I felt my shoulders tighten.
Leah stepped beside me.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"Yes."
The front door opened.
Evan walked in without greeting either of us.
He dropped his suitcase.
Then he looked directly at me.
"Rachel, what the hell have you done?"
I stood up.
And for the first time in eight years, I wasn't afraid of what my answer might do to our marriage.
May you like
"That's interesting," I said.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
