Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Perfume
Ethan stayed in my apartment that night.
Not in my bedroom.
Not even on the couch.
He sat in a chair near the door like a guard.
I hated how safe I felt with him there.
Hated it because safety had been the one thing I thought I'd lost in our marriage.
At 2:00 a.m., I woke from a nightmare.
I was back in our old bedroom.
The cake was on the floor.
Ethan was standing by the door.
And the woman whose perfume I had smelled was laughing.
I woke with tears on my face.
“Emma?”
Ethan was beside the bed instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You were crying.”
“I'm fine.”
He sat down.
“You don't have to say that anymore.”
I looked at him.
For a moment, he looked like my husband again.
Not my ex.
“My mother knew,” I whispered.
“Knew what?”
“About your father?”
“No.”
“I think she knew something about your marriage.”
Ethan frowned.
“Why would she?”
“She warned me.”
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
His expression changed.
“What did she say?”
“She told me I should stop asking questions.”
“About?”
“You.”
Ethan stood.
“Your mother knew?”
“I don't know.”
“Call her.”
It was almost three in the morning.
She answered immediately.
“Emma?”
“Mom, I need you to tell me the truth.”
A pause.
“About what?”
“Ethan's father.”
Silence.
I knew immediately.
“You knew.”
My mother sighed.
“I knew there was a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Your father-in-law came to see me.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Why?”
“He asked me whether you'd told me anything about Ethan.”
“About what?”
“Another woman.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mom.”
“I told him no.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Ethan was in danger.”
I looked at Ethan.
He was listening.
“What kind of danger?”
“He didn't explain.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he made me promise.”
My voice broke.
“You all decided I was better off not knowing.”
“No, Emma.”
“You did.”
My mother began crying.
“I was afraid.”
The call ended.
Ethan looked at me.
“I'm sorry.”
I wiped my eyes.
“Where does the lawyer fit into this?”
He picked up his phone.
“Her name is Claire Donovan.”
“She works for you?”
“She worked for my father.”
“And she knows everything.”
“More than I do, maybe.”
He showed me a photograph.
A red-haired woman leaving a courthouse.
“This is Claire.”
I recognized her.
She had been the woman whose perfume I smelled.
“You met her the night of my birthday.”
“Yes.”
“You told me you were in a business meeting.”
“I was.”
She had been carrying documents.
The same documents now spread across my kitchen table.
Ethan's voice was low.
“Claire was helping me trace money moved out of my father's private trust.”
“By whom?”
“We still don't know.”
Then came another surprise.
The door buzzer sounded.
Ethan moved instantly.
He signaled for silence.
A minute later, security officers arrived.
One of them handed him a package.
“No return address.”
Ethan opened it carefully.
Inside was a child's photograph.
I stared.
It was a picture of me at age seven.
Standing beside Ethan's father.
On the back was written:
HE KNOWS.
Ethan stared at it.
“Who?”
I whispered.
“My father-in-law.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“This photograph was taken eight years after he supposedly stopped seeing you.”
I looked at him.
“What are you saying?”
“My father told me he had never met you before our relationship.”
My hands shook.
“That isn't possible.”
He turned over the photograph.
A date had been written in the corner.
Six months before Ethan and I met.
My stomach tightened.
“Maybe your father met me through my mother.”
Ethan looked at the image.
“There are more.”
He pulled out another.
And another.
I was in school.
At a charity event.
At a hospital.
Always somewhere near Ethan's father.
I had never noticed him.
Because I hadn't known to look.
“Why would he watch me?”
Ethan didn't answer.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A distorted male voice said:
“You've started asking the right questions.”
My heart pounded.
“Who are you?”
“Ask your husband why his father chose you.”
Then the line went dead.
Ethan took the phone.
His face was grim.
“Your husband?”
“Or my ex-husband.”
“He doesn't know the difference.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“The person who called knows we're together.”
My stomach dropped.
“We're not together.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Not yet.”
I glared at him.
“You really think this is the moment?”
He almost smiled.
“I was trying to lighten the mood.”
“It didn't work.”
“No.”
Then the lights went out.
The apartment went completely dark.
A crash came from the kitchen.
Ethan grabbed me.
“Stay behind me.”
Glass shattered.
May you like
Someone was inside.
And whoever it was knew exactly where I lived.
