The Woman Behind Me

For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the blood pounding in my ears.

My mother hadn't died because she was sick.

That was what Claire had said.

But Claire was the woman my husband had just kissed in front of me. She was the woman who had apparently known about my daughter before Daniel came home. She was the woman who looked terrified of a bracelet that had been in my family for decades.

Why should I believe her?

I looked at Daniel.

"Tell me she's lying.""

He stared at the envelope in his hand.

"Emily, we can't discuss this here.""

"Then tell me one thing. Did my mother know you before we met?""

His silence answered before his mouth did.

My grip tightened around Lily.

"Daniel?""

He rubbed his forehead.

"Yes.""

The word was barely audible.

I felt something inside me give way.

"How long?""

"Emily—"

"How long did you know my mother?""

He glanced at Claire, who was watching him with a mixture of fury and despair.

"Before I knew you," he finally said.

I stared at him.

"How many years?""

"Nearly ten.""

Ten years.

My mother had been dead for eleven.

The arrivals hall tilted around me.

I remembered Daniel proposing to me in the small Italian restaurant where we'd celebrated my twenty-fifth birthday. I remembered him saying he'd never met anyone who made him feel so certain about the future.

I'd believed him.

Now I wondered whether he'd chosen that restaurant because it was near the hospital where my mother had died.

"Give me the letter," I said.

Daniel hesitated.

"Please," I repeated.

"It's addressed to me.""

He handed it over.

The envelope was sealed with yellowed tape. My mother's handwriting looked exactly as it had on birthday cards she'd written before she died: elegant, slightly slanted, with the letter E curling at the top.

I pressed it against my chest.

Claire stepped toward me.

"Emily, I need you to understand something. I didn't know who you were until today.""

"Then how do you know my mother?""

She glanced at Daniel.

"Because I was told to look for her.""

"By whom?""

Claire opened her mouth, but Daniel moved between us.

"Enough.""

She stared at him.

"You don't get to order me around anymore.""

His face hardened.

"Think carefully about what you're doing.""

"No, Daniel. You should have thought carefully ten years ago.""

He reached for her handbag.

She jerked it away.

"Don't touch my things!""

People were beginning to gather around us. An airport employee approached, asking whether everything was all right.

Daniel immediately transformed.

He straightened his coat and forced a weary smile.

"I'm sorry. Family disagreement.""

The employee looked at me.

"Ma'am, do you need assistance?""

I almost said yes.

I wanted to tell him that my husband had a secret life, that a stranger had just claimed my mother was murdered, and that I was suddenly afraid to go home.

Instead, I shook my head.

"I'm fine.""

The lie tasted bitter.

Daniel took the opportunity to grab his suitcase.

"Emily, my car is outside. We can talk privately.""

I looked at him.

"Where are you staying?""

He blinked.

"What?""

"You said you were coming home. Where have you been living for the last six months?""

"Hotels. You know that.""

"Which hotel?""

He hesitated for half a second too long.

Claire laughed bitterly.

"Tell her about the house.""

Daniel turned on her.

"Not another word.""

She lifted her chin.

"Tell her about the house in Lake Forest. Tell her how you bought it three months ago. Tell her why there's a nursery upstairs even though you told me you never wanted children.""

My stomach twisted.

A house.

A nursery.

I thought of the apartment I'd struggled to afford while Daniel claimed his project was barely covering its expenses. I thought of the nights I'd skipped dinner so I could buy Lily another can of formula.

"You bought a house?"" I whispered.

Daniel's expression changed.

"It's complicated.""

"That's what people say when the truth is ugly.""

He took a step toward me.

"Emily, listen. I was going to explain everything.""

"When? After our daughter turned eighteen?""

His mouth tightened.

"Don't make a scene.""

I looked down at Lily, whose small fingers were tangled in the collar of my blouse.

Then I looked at the flowers lying crushed beside my shoes.

I had spent eighteen dollars to welcome a man who apparently had an entire other life.

"No," I said.

"You made the scene. I'm just standing in it.""

I turned toward the airport exit.

Daniel followed.

"Where are you going?""

"Home.""

"I'll drive you.""

"No.""

"Emily, don't be childish.""

I stopped so abruptly that he nearly collided with me.

"Childish? You kissed another woman in front of your own child, and I'm the one behaving badly?""

Several people turned.

Daniel lowered his voice.

"You're upset. You're not thinking clearly.""

"You're right. I'm not thinking clearly. That's why I'm leaving before you convince me that what I saw didn't happen.""

I walked away before he could answer.

Outside, the October wind cut through my thin dress. I stood near the curb, struggling to open the rideshare app with one hand while Lily fussed against my shoulder.

My phone rang.

Daniel.

I declined the call.

It rang again.

Then a text appeared.

*Daniel: Don't open that letter until you get home.*

A second message followed.

*Daniel: Whatever Claire told you, she has her own reasons for lying.*

I stared at the screen.

A third message arrived.

*Daniel: Your mother made a promise to my family. If you break it, Lily won't be safe.*

My breath caught.

I looked back through the glass doors.

Daniel stood inside the terminal, watching me.

He wasn't trying to follow.

He was waiting.

As though he knew I'd eventually come back.

I climbed into the rideshare when it arrived and held Lily close during the drive home.

The city blurred beyond the window. Traffic crawled along the expressway, brake lights glowing red beneath the gray sky.

Lily fell asleep against my chest.

I studied her face, searching for something that might explain the strange things Claire had said. Her dark lashes. The tiny dimple in her left cheek. The faint crescent-shaped birthmark behind her ear.

Daniel had once joked that she looked exactly like him.

I'd laughed.

Now I couldn't remember whether I'd ever believed it.

At home, I locked the deadbolt, closed the curtains, and carried Lily to her crib. She stirred when I laid her down, then settled with one hand resting beside her cheek.

I stood there for a long time.

She was innocent.

Whatever Daniel had done, whatever my mother had hidden, Lily had nothing to do with it.

I went into the kitchen and placed the envelope on the table.

My hands trembled as I broke the seal.

Inside lay a folded letter and a small photograph.

The photograph showed my mother standing beside a man I'd never seen before. He wore a dark suit, and his arm rested protectively around her shoulders. They stood in front of a large stone house surrounded by trees.

On the back, my mother had written a date.

*October 14, 1998. The day we agreed to protect her.*

I turned the photograph over again.

The man's face was unmistakable.

He was older in the picture, but I recognized the eyes, the sharp nose, and the distinctive scar beside his mouth.

He was Daniel's father.

I sat down so quickly that the chair scraped against the floor.

Daniel had told me his father died when he was twelve.

He'd said the man had been a quiet businessman who rarely discussed his work.

I unfolded the letter.

My dearest Emily,

If you are reading this, then the secret I spent my life protecting has finally reached you.

I wanted to tell you everything when you were old enough. But after what happened to your father, I understood that the truth could put you in danger.

I stopped.

My father had died in a car accident.

At least, that was what I'd been told.

I forced myself to continue.

There is something you must know about the man you married. Daniel did not meet you by chance. His family has been watching you since before you were born.

My stomach tightened.

I read the sentence again.

Then the next.

They believe your bloodline holds the key to an inheritance that was stolen from us. But the money is not the real danger. The real danger is what they are willing to do to keep the truth buried.

I heard a noise outside.

A car door closing.

I froze.

Through the kitchen window, I saw a black SUV parked across the street. Its headlights were off.

A man sat behind the steering wheel.

He was watching my house.

My phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

*Unknown: You have something that belongs to us.*

A second message arrived.

*Unknown: Put the letter back in its envelope. Leave the bracelet on your daughter. Do not contact the police.*

I stood so quickly that the photograph slid off the table.