PART 3
My heart began beating faster.
“But if he didn’t give you my name, who did?”
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“Sophie.”
The name landed like a stone.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “What happened?”
“She came into the clinic yesterday.”
My fingers tightened around the pen.
“Is she okay?”
“Yes. Physically, she’s fine.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Because she asked us to contact you if anything happened to her.”
I stared at the half-finished coffee in front of me.
“What kind of thing?”
“She was frightened.”
My throat went dry.
“Frightened of what?”
“Of your husband.” I stopped breathing.
Rebecca continued.
“She told one of our counselors that she believes Julian has been lying to both of you.”
Both of you.
The words echoed in my head.
“What did she say?”
“I’m not supposed to discuss another patient’s private information.”
“I understand.”
“And normally, I wouldn’t be calling you at all.”
“Then why are you?”
“Because Sophie left something for you.”
I looked down at my notebook.
“What?”
“A sealed envelope.”
My pulse was hammering now.
“Why would she leave me an envelope?”
“She said you would understand when you saw what was inside.”
I swallowed.
“Where is she?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Is she in danger?”
Another pause.
“I think you should talk to her yourself.”
I closed my eyes.
“What did she leave?”
Rebecca’s voice became quieter.
“Photographs. Receipts. And a copy of something your husband signed.”
My eyes opened.
“What did he sign?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said you work at the clinic.”
“I do. But the envelope was sealed. Sophie gave it to our director with instructions.”
“Instructions for what?”
“To make sure it reached you.”
I stared at the street outside.
For years, I had believed my greatest problem was infertility.
I had believed my marriage was strong except for that one painful subject.
I had believed Julian loved me.
Maybe I had been wrong about everything.
“Where can I get the envelope?”
Rebecca gave me an address.
I wrote it down.
Then she said something that made my hand stop.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t tell Julian about this call.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because Sophie specifically told us not to.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
I remained in the booth for another twenty minutes.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t cry.
I didn’t even finish my coffee.
I simply stared at the address written in my notebook.
Then I turned the page.
Underneath the eleven business trips, I wrote one sentence.
Julian is not the only person who has been lying.
