Chapter 3
The letter was short.
That frightened him more than pages of anger would have.
Claire had never been cruel with words. She was not dramatic. She did not scream. She noticed things, absorbed them, and made the world comfortable for people who rarely thanked her.
The letter had no messy tear stains.
No pleading.
No questions.
Just Claire.
Everett read it once.
Then again.
By the third time, he had to sit on the edge of the bed.
The words were simple.
She knew about Maren.
She knew about the apartment in the West Loop.
She knew about the earrings.
She knew the business trip to Seattle had really been three nights in Napa.
She knew about the second phone, the private driver, the restaurant reservations under his assistant’s name, and the wire transfer he had disguised as a consulting fee.
Then came the sentence that made the room tilt.
Keep the diamonds, Everett.
You always gave them after you had already given yourself away.
His mouth went dry.
At the bottom of the letter, Claire had written one more line.
The house will feel cold because I finally stopped keeping it warm for you.
Everett looked around the bedroom.
The cold had become physical now, crawling under his shirt, into his hands, behind his ribs.
He reached for his phone and called her.
Straight to voicemail.
He called again.
Nothing.
He checked her location.
Unavailable.
He opened their shared account.
Frozen.
Not empty.
Frozen.
His stomach tightened.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message from his attorney.
Everett, call me immediately. Claire’s counsel contacted our office. Do not speak to her directly.
Everett stared at the screen.
May you like
Claire had not just left.
Claire had prepared.
