It was answered on the first ring. “Jill?”
“Who is this?”
“Is Cush still there?”
“No, he just left.” The voice sounded familiar. “Nadia? Is that you? What number are you calling from? My phone didn’t recognize it.”
“Yes, it’s me. This isn’t my phone. Cush has been monitoring my calls so I bought a disposable. Listen, I don’t have much time before he comes back.” Nadia’s voice dropped to a whisper, low and urgent. “Did you sign that paper?”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Good. Listen to me—”
But Jill had had enough of people telling her what to do. She had questions of her own and she wanted answers. “Did you know about Marc and… that woman?
Nadia hesitated for just a moment. “Yes, I did. We all did.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were friends.” Even if Nadia wasn’t what Jill would consider a real friend, like Ellie, she was the closest thing she had to an ally in Marc’s circle.
“I thought this time was a phase. Like the last time.”
“Last time? You mean he’s done this before?”
“Twice.”
Jill felt the breath leave her body and she wasn’t sure how to take another. She steadied herself against the counter as her legs threatened to give way.
“Listen to me, Jill,” Nadia continued. “I’m trying to help you, and I don’t have long. I can’t be a part of this anymore. The money Cush offered means nothing. What’s important is the Dewberry Beach house. There are things you don’t know about it.”
“How long, Nadia? How long has Marc been cheating on me?”
“Jillian—you’re not listening. And if you don’t listen to me now, you’ll be in trouble. Marc has already filed for divorce. The papers Cush wanted you to sign are meant to distract you.”
“Divorce?” Jill drew herself up. “What do you mean, divorce? Cush told me that Marc wanted to work things out.”
“He lied. The divorce papers have been drawn up for weeks.”
“You can’t be—”
“Jillian.” Nadia’s voice was sharp. “I know this is a lot, but you have to keep it together. They’ve had a substantial head start, orchestrating an outcome that’s best for Marc. Things are happening, even now, and you have to be ready when it hits.”
Jill sucked in a breath. “Tell me.”
“I’ve listened at the door—the two of them meet in Cush’s office. I don’t know everything, but I’ll tell you what I’ve heard as long as you promise not to think badly of me.”
“Think badly of you?” Jill parroted. “Nadia, that doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”
“You’ll find out.” Nadia hesitated. “And when you do, know that I’m sorry. But right now, I can’t have Cush know I’m talking to you. So promise you won’t call me again.”
“What— Okay. I promise.”
“You’ve refused his check, and they didn’t expect that. From now on, things are going to happen fast.” Nadia’s words were a rush. “You signed a prenup. Find it.”
In the background, Jill could hear Cush’s voice call out for Nadia. Nadia muffled the phone and called back to him, “Be right there.
“I have to go. They’re back.” Nadia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The house in Dewberry Beach is not what you think. Start with the mortgage… I’m sorry, Jilly—about everything.”
Before Jill could respond, Nadia ended the call.
Jill stood in the kitchen, staring at her phone, unable to understand what was happening.
Two weeks ago, she’d stood beside her husband at his birthday party. She’d greeted his guests and laughed at his jokes, being exactly who Marc wanted her to be. Though parts of it were challenging, Jill had thought her marriage was rock solid and she was happy.
But all of it had turned out to be a lie.
Marc had betrayed her. He’d slept with another woman and returned to the party as if nothing had happened. He’d stood beside Jill, draped his arm around her, as if he hadn’t just betrayed her. And now it turned out that Marc had been planning to divorce her for months.
Jill made her way to the sofa and collapsed, resting her head on the upholstery, and closed her eyes. The life she’d thought was perfect had imploded, utterly and completely, and she was afraid the destruction would break her. Dazed, she lifted her head and glanced at the doorway to the kitchen, almost expecting someone to jump out and shout “surprise.” Even that would make more sense.
It was all just too much.
Jill woke sometime later, sprawled across the couch, her head foggy from an anxious sleep. Outside, the bright morning sunlight she remembered had shifted and dimmed into dusk. An entire day had passed, and she’d slept through it. Pushing the tangle of blankets from her legs, she rose from the couch, badly in need of fresh air to clear her head.
Outside, the evening air was sharp and crisp. The last of the summer crickets chirped as the streets quieted. From the hill of her driveway, Jill could see the entire neighborhood, the warm glow of lights in the homes below. She listened to parents calling their children inside from their play. And she imagined families gathered around the dinner table. After dinner, there would be baths, bedtime, stories. And in the morning, the cycle would start all over again. Kids would be sent off to school with a packed lunch and a kiss on the cheek, knowing they were loved.
That rhythm. The rhythm of everyday was what she wanted to build a life on.
It was all Jill had ever wanted: a home, a family, children. How did she end up here, so far from that?
She turned to look at the house that she’d shared with Marc, the one she’d moved into on the afternoon of her wedding. The biggest in the neighborhood, it stood perched
