Chapter 2 - THE FIFTY CALLS
David was taken away at 6:17 that evening.
Julianne was not arrested.
Not yet.
Agent Reed asked her to remain.
She stood in the empty living room clutching the handles of her designer shopping bag.
“I didn’t know.”
She said.
I looked at her.
“I’m not interested.”
“I swear.”
“You slept with my husband.”
She flinched.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
Agent Reed stepped between us.
“Ms. Cole, we need to discuss the trip.”
Julianne looked toward the front door.
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“That depends on what you knew.”
Her face went pale.
I walked away.
I had already spent too many hours caring what David’s mistress knew.
Two weeks earlier, my entire world had been six feet wide.
Lily’s ICU bed.
A ventilator.
A monitor.
A chair where I slept for forty minutes at a time.
The doctors moved fast.
Meningococcal infection.
Sepsis.
Brain swelling.
Words came at me faster than grief could understand them.
At first, they thought antibiotics might turn things around.
Then Lily’s blood pressure collapsed.
At 6:03 that evening, I called David.
No answer.
6:07.
Rejected.
6:11.
Rejected.
I texted.
LILY IS IN THE ICU.
CALL ME NOW.
The message showed delivered.
No reply.
I called again.
By the twentieth call, a nurse named Rachel quietly took my phone.
“Is there anyone else?”
She asked.
“No.”
“My parents are dead.”
“Siblings?”
“My brother is overseas.”
“His family?”
I thought of David’s mother, who had died years earlier.
“No.”
Rachel squeezed my shoulder.
“I’m here.”
At 9:16 P.M., David finally sent his message.
Stop suffocating me with your anxiety, Maya.
I am on a digital detox trip for my mental health.
Do not contact me for the next two weeks.
I stared at the words.
Then Lily whispered.
“Mommy?”
I put the phone down.
“Yes, baby?”
“Did Daddy call?”
I lied.
“Not yet.”
She nodded weakly.
“Maybe his phone is sleeping.”
I smiled because she needed me to.
“Maybe.”
An hour later, the infectious disease specialist asked me to step outside.
He told me the treatments were failing.
At 11:32, Lily opened her eyes.
She looked directly at me.
“Mommy.”
“I’m here.”
“Tell Daddy I love him.”
I pressed my forehead against hers.
“You tell him yourself when he gets home.”
Another lie.
Ten minutes later, my daughter died with my hand around hers.
At 11:49, I called David for the fiftieth time.
The call went straight to voicemail.
This time I said nothing.
I simply listened to his cheerful recorded greeting.
Then I hung up.
The next morning, I opened our banking app because the funeral home required a deposit.
That was when grief collided with something else.
Our joint operating account was nearly empty.
I stared at the balance.
Three weeks earlier, there had been more than four hundred thousand dollars available.
Now there was twelve thousand.
I searched the transactions.
A transfer appeared.
$385,000.
Destination.
MERIDIAN LIFESTYLE CONSULTING.
I had never heard of it.
The payment reference said.
EXECUTIVE RETREAT.
I called our accountant.
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he asked.
“Maya, where is David?”
“The Bahamas.”
Another pause.
“On a yacht?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
May you like
The accountant whispered something I would remember forever.
“Then I think you need a lawyer before you need another bank statement.”
