Chapter 4 - THE OTHER WOMAN
I didn't sleep a single minute that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the image of the sand tiger shark swimming between the two glass walls—a physical barrier separating two entirely different worlds created by the same man.
By 6:00 a.m., I had collected myself. I showered, dressed in jeans and a black sweater, and walked downstairs. Reid was asleep on the living room couch, fully clothed, an empty glass of whiskey sitting on the coffee table beside him.
I didn't bother waking him. I packed the kids into my car while they were still groggy, telling them we were going to spend the Sunday at Aunt Sarah’s house.
Sarah was my older sister—a sharp-witted corporate attorney who had never fully trusted Reid. When I pulled up to her house in the suburbs and told her everything while the kids played with her golden retriever in the backyard, Sarah didn't rage. She took out a legal pad and a pen.
"First," Sarah said, pushing a cup of black coffee toward me, "we file for an immediate emergency separation and temporary custody order. Second, we freeze all shared marital assets before he can move money around to support his second household."
"He claimed he was forced into it," I said, my voice hoarse. "He said Victoria threatened to expose him if he didn't pay for her life."
Sarah sneered. "Reid is a narcissist, Claire. He didn't get forced into anything. He wanted two families—one stable suburban home where he gets to play the noble father, and one secret mistress on the side where he gets to play the hero savior. But here's the thing... does Victoria even know about you?"
I froze.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Reid told you Victoria threatened him," Sarah reasoned, leaning across the kitchen table. "But Reid lies as easily as he breathes. What if Victoria thinks she is the primary wife? What if he told her that you were an ex-wife or a crazy co-parent?"
The thought made my stomach twist into a tight knot.
I pulled out my phone. Before leaving the house that morning, I had taken a quick photo of the birth certificate and the address listed under Victoria Sterling’s name on the pediatric bill.
An apartment complex in downtown Philadelphia—less than forty minutes away.
"I'm going to talk to her," I said, standing up.
"Claire, no," Sarah warned, reaching for my wrist. "Let my investigator handle it. You don't know how this woman will react."
"I need to look her in the eye, Sarah," I said, my voice dead serious. "I need to know what kind of life my husband built behind my back."
An hour later, I was standing in the carpeted hallway of a high-rise luxury apartment building in center city Philadelphia. Apartment 8B.
My heart pounded like a jackhammer against my ribs as I raised my hand and knocked on the sleek mahogany door.
Footsteps echoed inside. The door unlocked and swung open.
Standing before me was the woman from the aquarium. She was tall, slim, with long dark hair pulled back into a silk scrunchie. She was wearing a white linen robe, holding a mug of tea.
She looked at me, confusion knitting her brow. "Can I help you?"
I looked past her shoulder. In the living room, toys were scattered across an expensive Persian rug, and a small yellow sweater hung over the back of a dining chair.
"Are you Victoria?" I asked softly.
"Yes..." She frowned, her hand tightening on her mug. "Who are you?"
I pulled out my phone, unlocked the screen, and showed her the photo I’d taken at the aquarium three years ago—our family Christmas card. Me, Reid, and the twins smiling in matching flannel pajamas.
Victoria stared at the screen. Her brow unfurled, her face draining of color until she looked nearly ghostly.
"That's Reid," she whispered.
May you like
"My name is Claire Vance," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I am Reid’s wife. We’ve been married for eight years. And those are his seven-year-old twins."
Victoria’s mug slipped from her fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor at her feet.
