“Husband…?!”
The sound of shattering glass ripped through the room like a gunshot.
Red wine had spilled onto the floor in uneven streaks, but no one had moved to clean it up. Madison staggered back, a trembling hand covering her mouth. The man next to me, Daniel, stared at her, stunned but now certain of something. He had suspected something. Now he knew.
Ethan looked at Madison, then Daniel, then me, his expression gradually deteriorating. “What the hell is going on?”
“There,” I said, closing the front door behind Daniel, “is the truth you said you wanted.”
Madison’s voice was weak and hoarse. “Daniel, I can explain.”
Daniel let out a bitter laugh. “You’re at another woman’s house, with her husband. I think that explains it.”
Three days earlier, I had found evidence that Ethan had carelessly tried to conceal: hotel receipts in his jacket, messages appearing on his tablet, a selfie taken in a restaurant that he claimed was a “client meeting.” Madison had given me enough details for me to find his social media accounts in less than an hour. From there, it didn’t take me long to track down her husband.
I called Daniel that afternoon. I was expecting a denial, maybe even anger directed at me. Instead, he remained silent for a long time, then said, “If you’re right, I want to hear it from him.”
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