Chapter 1 - DID SHE BELIEVE THE AFFAIR?
By the time I reached the Bennett house, I had already decided my marriage was probably over.
That was my first mistake.
Not because Daniel had done nothing wrong.
Because I had turned suspicion into a verdict before I asked him one direct question.
The mansion sat behind stone gates forty minutes outside Manhattan, all pale limestone, tall windows, and carefully trimmed trees that made the place look less like a home than somewhere a family had been instructed to behave.
I entered through the front door without knocking.
I still had a key.
Daniel and I had lived there for three years after his father died, though lately we spent more nights at our apartment in the city.
Margaret Bennett was crossing the foyer when she saw me.
Sixty-two.
Perfect cream blouse.
Dark trousers.
Pearl earrings.
She took one look at my face and understood why I was there.
“Where is he?”
I asked.
“Daniel isn't here.”
“I know.”
That seemed to surprise her.
Good.
I stepped farther into the marble foyer.
My clutch felt heavy beneath my arm.
Margaret watched it.
Then me.
“What happened?”
“You tell me.”
She sighed.
Not worried.
Annoyed.
I hated her for that before she gave me a reason.
“Claire, whatever argument you and Daniel are having does not need to happen in my foyer.”
“Your foyer?”
“Don't.”
I laughed.
“That's what you're worried about?”
She walked toward me.
I thought she was going to take my arm.
Instead—
she slapped me.
Hard.
My head snapped sideways.
The sound echoed all the way up the sweeping staircase.
Margaret stood inches away.
“Men cheat. Grow up.”
For a second I did not move.
My cheek burned.
Then I slowly turned back toward her.
“You knew.”
She gave me a cold look.
“I know my son.”
She started walking away.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her back.
Margaret looked down at my hand like I had spilled wine on her.
“Take your hand off me.”
“No.”
I opened my clutch.
Pulled out the necklace.
Gold.
Old.
Far more expensive than anything Daniel would have bought impulsively.
A teardrop sapphire surrounded by small diamonds.
The clasp was unusually heavy, almost antique.
I held it between us.
“Then explain this.”
Margaret saw it.
Everything in her changed.
Her shoulders.
Her mouth.
Her eyes.
The anger disappeared.
She stiffened.
I noticed.
“That's what I thought.”
“Where did you get that?”
Her voice had gone quieter.
“Daniel's hotel room.”
Margaret lunged.
Not for me.
For the necklace.
I jerked my hand back.
“What the hell?”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Why?”
“Where did you get it?”
“I just told you.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Which hotel?”
“The Mercer.”
She went pale.
Actually pale.
I had expected disgust.
Maybe embarrassment.
Maybe some ugly defense of her son.
Not fear.
I stepped closer.
“You recognize it.”
“No.”
“That was fast.”
“Give it to me.”
She grabbed my arm.
Hard.
Then started pulling me toward the front door.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Leave.”
“Margaret.”
“You've made your point.”
“No, apparently I haven't.”
She pulled harder.
I tore free and shoved her backward.
Margaret stumbled into the arm of an upholstered chair.
She caught herself.
For the first time, I looked past the possibility of an affair.
People did not react like this to jewelry from a mistress.
Not unless the mistress was somebody they already knew.
Margaret came at me again.
She reached for the necklace.
I knocked her hand away.
“You knew.”
She froze.
I watched her eyes.
She tried not to look anywhere.
That made it obvious when she did.
Down the hall.
Past the formal living room.
Toward the private room at the far end.
The old library.
Richard Bennett's room.
Closed since his death four years earlier.
Margaret kept it locked.
Nobody went in without her.
I slowly turned.
She stepped in front of me.
“Don't.”
I looked at her.
“Who's in there?”
“No one.”
I started toward the hall.
Margaret grabbed my sleeve.
“Claire.”
Then a woman's voice came from behind the closed door.
Calm.
Older than mine.
Completely unfamiliar.
“Margaret…”
I stopped.
Margaret lost all color.
May you like
The woman continued.
“Did she believe the affair?”
