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Liar.
It was as if he’d forgotten about her previous life. She’d played verbal gymnastics with people much more cunning than him. The kind who would be smart enough not to use the same password on their secret phone as they used on their usual one. “If that’s true, then why did you save them? And why hide the phone?”
“For insurance.”
“How? Even if the videos were a prank, they could be used to ruin you. I heard your voice on one.” She feared she would never forget what she’d heard. “Explain how you’ve protected yourself. Us.”
“I don’t appreciate your tone.” When she started to respond to that, he held up a hand and talked over her. “This discussion is over. I’ve told you what you need to know, and now you can stop worrying about this. There’s more to it than the videos. I have the whole matter handled.”
She knew that was a lie. All of this was one big lie. She didn’t ask anything else, because the responses would be more of the same. Nonsense and bullshit.
He smiled in a way that made her feel more like prey than a wife. “Now that we’ve resolved that...”
He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. She fought off a flinch but just barely. Maybe that’s where he wanted her energy focused, because he swooped in and pried the phone out of her hand before she realized what was happening.
“Clean this room up. I came home early to take you to dinner, but I can’t do that with this mess.” Then he walked out, cell phone in hand.
To him, that was it. He actually thought his comments and weak assurances ended the conversation. That she would slink back into her life, forget what she’d seen, and move on. That she was too stupid to have forwarded some of the videos to her email before the battery on his top secret phone died.
She would review them all and tease out every detail. And no, she would not let him turn this around and make it her fault. He’d always known the one thing she could not live through again... and he’d crashed their marriage right into it.
She’dhandleit. She didn’t before, but she would this time.
She would be the one to stop him.
Chapter Three
Six Weeks Later
End of September
A NORMAL TUESDAY.
The relatively boring nature of the usual morning schedule would tumble through Lila Ridgefield’s mind every time she thought back on this day. Nothing different. Nothing to see here.
She walked around all morning, groggy and unsettled. Nursed a cup of coffee as it morphed from piping hot, to lukewarm, to sour and cold. By a little after ten, she slipped out of her comfortable pajamas and put on long, flowy black dress pants and a green silk blouse. The kind of outfit worn by ladies who enjoyed a fancy lunch out at the club but didn’t do much else with their time.
The temptation to find sweats or yoga pants tugged at her, but she didn’t give in. She maintained the image Aaron wanted, even this morning. Casual clothes would be out of character. People would notice. Today needed to look likea normal day. Blend in so nothing stuck out as unusual or, worse, memorable.
The wardrobe specifications had been a request from Aaron early in their marriage. After suffering through a difficult childhood, complete with the loss of both parents, he insisted a family look a certain way to the outside world. For his wife—if only on the exterior and to others—to come off as put together and project a certain image at all times. For them to have a weekly housekeeping service and meal delivery for the times when neither of them wanted to cook. For anyone watching to see success.
She chalked up the request to his idealized view of family. One different from what he’d known. It was as if he believed if he had all the outside trappings, from the big house to the perfect wife, the rest would fall in line. No one could question or destroy it. She understood because she’d maneuvered her way through a dysfunctional upbringing and knew the things you grabbed on to to survive weren’t always rational.
At the beginning of their marriage the Aaron-imposed public dress code, while sometimes annoying, wasn’t a problem. It blended in with what she needed to wear to the office. That changed when they moved and she left her job, but his requirements for that dream of perfection never dimmed.
Now he couldn’t play that game. Thanks to her.
Today she complied on her terms. She picked the perfect outfit to stand outside on the long driveway that twisted its way up to her sprawling ranch house at the top of the hill. Hair styled and a light touch of makeup. Ready to fake mourn.
The gardeners deserved the credit for the pristine lawn and intricately shaped bushes. Her contribution amounted to writing a check for their services every month. Growing up, her father viewed mowing as a man’s job, convinced she’d hurt herself. The lectures about what was and wasn’t her place blurred into a humming sound in her head. His stern and disapproving voice. The way he screamedJesusat her mother so often that Lila didn’t realize it wasn’t part of her mother’s actual name until she got older. Right around the time the whispering about her parents started.
A buzzing vibrated in her brain now. The memories itched and scratched, desperate to break through the invisible barrier she slammed into place to shut them out. She did what she always did to survive. Blocked and refocused, this time on the warm sun. It beamed down, breaking through the lingering chill.
She touched the top button of the silk cardigan draped over her shoulders and looked at the straight edge where the grass met the pavement. The line, too perfect, called out for flowers. A splash of color amid the sea of brown. Brown house siding on top of brown stone. Brown shutters with a darker brown front door.
Aaron had bought the property without her input about four years ago. She’d stayed behind in North Carolina to clean up before their move north. He’d gone up for a quick meeting about his new teaching job and called her, shouting about a bargain. One with old plumbing and wiring so unpredictable that it prevented them from plugging in more thantwo lights in the living room at the same time during the first few months they lived there.
He’d already signed the offer by the time he called. Of course he had. Still in those earlier days, flush with a sense of hopefulness and a naïve optimism about how they could do better than their parents and forge a path, she didn’t recognize his move for what it was—a complete dismissal of her opinion. Treating her as an afterthought.
