“He sent me a picture of the appointment.”
One of Grant’s sisters stood from the table.
“Are you serious?”
Grant raised both hands.
“Everybody stop acting like I broke into a bank vault.
She was planning to leave me.
I needed to know what was happening in my own marriage.”
My attorney said, “And then you shared what you found with Vanessa?”
He looked at her.
“I’m not answering you.”
“You don’t have to.”
That calm answer infuriated him more than an argument would have.
He turned toward me.
“You set this up.”
“No.”
“You knew Vanessa was coming.”
“I didn’t.”
“You knew about the book.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why was your lawyer outside?”
“Because I was already leaving you.”
The room went still again.
I had never said the sentence to him that clearly.
Not during the consultation.
Not when I changed the lock.
Not when I began copying financial records.
Grant had spent so much time hunting for evidence that I might leave that he had never considered the possibility that his hunting would become one of the reasons I did.
My attorney slid the pages back into the folder.
“We’re going now.”
Grant pointed at the black notebook.
“That stays here.”
Vanessa grabbed it before he could.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Grant’s voice dropped.
“Give it to me.”
“You gave me the information.”
“It’s mine.”
“You said it was hers.”
He stepped toward her.
Vanessa stepped behind a chair and held the notebook against her side.
My attorney addressed her.
“Keep it intact.
Don’t tear anything out.
Don’t add anything.
If you’re willing, preserve the messages Grant sent you too.”
Vanessa nodded.
Grant laughed bitterly.
“Amazing.
Five minutes ago she was my mistress.
Now you two are partners?”
I picked up my coat.
“No, Grant.
She’s a witness.”
That was the first time his face truly fell.
Not when the lawyer arrived.
