Page 148 of What Goes Around

A woman stepped inside.

Elena Brooks, my father’s current secretary. And his mistress.

I recognized her from the photo I had seen online.

She was well dressed, understated, elegant. No flashy jewelry. Neutral makeup.

Elena crossed the room without hesitation and walked straight up to Brandon.

“Happy birthday, Brandon,” she said. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

Her hand rested on his forearm a second too long.

Marissa noticed.

I noticed.

And I enjoyed it.

Marissa’s smile stayed in place, but it never reached her eyes. She leaned toward Brandon and murmured something under her breath.

“It was last minute,” Brandon replied. “I told the restaurant today. It’s not a big deal.”

For the rest of the evening, Marissa barely left his side. She hovered. Redirected conversations. Positioned herself physically between him and Elena whenever possible.

She even tried to seat the secretary farther down the table.

It didn’t work.

Somehow, Elena ended up directly across from Brandon.

I settled back in my chair, perfectly comfortable. My plate arrived, and I ate without hurry, without tension. Seared scallops with a citrus beurre blanc. I cut into one slowly, enjoying the contrast of textures.

Marissa barely touched her food.

Halfway through the meal, Elena handed Brandon a gift. A small, elegant box.

“I remembered you mentioning you needed a new watch,” she said.

Brandon opened it.

He removed his old watch and put the new one on, adjusting it on his wrist and holding his arm up slightly, letting everyone see.

“I love it,” he said. “Thank you.”

I took another bite of my food, chewing slowly, watching Marissa’s fingers tighten around her wineglass until her knuckles turned white. She smiled through it.

The old watch had been her gift.

And as she stared at Elena, I wondered if she thought this was the woman who had been sending those anonymous hints. The little nudges about an affair. The messages that had unsettled her for years.

Apple tried to regain control.

“Dad,” she said, “do you remember when Mom planned your forty-third birthday? At that place downtown?”

Marissa straightened, grateful for the lifeline.

“Yes,” she said quickly. “That was such a special night.”