Chapter 9: The Other Life
I sat on the edge of the bed for a long time with the phone in my hand.
The photo wasn't ambiguous.
It wasn't a group shot.
It wasn't a work event.
It was the two of them at what looked like a restaurant — candles on the table, wine glasses, her hand on his arm.
She was wearing the blue dress she'd told me she'd donated to charity.
I scrolled through the rest of his public profile slowly.
There wasn't much — he kept it mostly private — but what was there was enough.
A check-in at a hotel in Edinburgh from ten months ago.
A comment from Meliora on a photo he'd posted of a coastline: *Beautiful.
Wish I was there.* Posted on a Tuesday afternoon when she'd told me she was taking Kerensa to her mother's.
I put the phone face-down on the bed.
I sat there and thought about the money.
Eleven thousand pounds.
Fourteen months.
The ATM on Renwick Street, three miles from our house, near nothing she regularly went to.
Near the train station.
I picked the phone back up and checked the distance from Renwick Street to the station.
Six minutes on foot.
I went downstairs.
Meliora was still in the living room, reading something on her tablet.
She looked up.
"I want to ask you something," I said.
"And I want you to think carefully before you answer."
She set the tablet down.
"Okay."
"Who is Daniel Forsythe?"
The room went very still.
She didn't flinch.
She didn't look away.
But the hand on her knee pressed flat against her leg.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Answer the question."
"He's someone I know through work.
A contact."
"He's based in Edinburgh."
"Yes."
"You've been to Edinburgh?"
A pause.
Just one beat too long.
"For work.
Yes."
"When?"
"Owen—"
"When, Meliora?"
She stood up.
"I don't like what you're implying."
"I found the photo," I said.
"On his Facebook.
The restaurant.
The blue dress you told me you gave away."
Her face didn't collapse.
That was the thing I hadn't expected.
She didn't cry or deny or go pale.
She just looked at me with that same flat, cold expression she'd had in the kitchen when I asked about Kerensa being afraid.
"How long?" I asked.
"It's not what you think."
"How long?"
"Fourteen months," she said.
"But it's over.
It's been over for two months."
Fourteen months.
The same fourteen months as the withdrawals.
"The money," I said.
"The eleven thousand pounds."
She sat back down.
"I was going to tell you."
"You were going to tell me."
"I needed — I needed money that wasn't connected to us.
In case things went a different way."
"In case you left."
She didn't answer.
"You were building a fund," I said.
"In case you decided to leave me.
While you were with him.
While Kerensa was here."
"I told you it's over—"
"It doesn't matter if it's over!" My voice came out louder than I intended and I stopped, pulled it back.
"Kerensa was in this house.
Whatever was happening between you and him, Kerensa was here.
And instead of being present for her, you were—" I stopped again.
"I was unhappy," Meliora said.
"You were never here.
You were always working.
I was alone with a child all day every day and you came home tired and you didn't see me—"
"So you took it out on her."
"I did not—"
"You told her she was ugly.
You told her ugly things don't get kept." My voice was very quiet now.
"You held her wrist until she stopped struggling.
You threatened her with abandonment.
And you did all of that while you were lying to me and stealing from our account." I looked at her.
"Tell me which part of that is my fault."
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
"The lawyer is filing today," I said.
"For an emergency order.
Kerensa stays with Dara until the hearing."
Meliora stood up fast.
"You can't do that."
"It's already done."
"I will fight you on this, Owen.
I will fight you and I will win and I will make sure everyone knows what you did — you sl@pped me, you shaved my hair—"
"In front of our daughter.
After what you did to her.
And I have a witness, a video, and a written statement from Kerensa." I picked up my keys from the table.
"And now I have a name."
She went very still.
"Fight me if you want," I said.
"But fight me with the truth on the table.
All of it."
I walked to the door.
Behind me, I heard her say one thing.
"He's going to want to meet her.
Daniel.
He said he wants to be part of her life."
I stopped with my hand on the door.
I turned around slowly.
"What did you just say?"
Her chin came up.
"He loves me.
And he wants—"
"Kerensa is my daughter."
"Yes," she said.
"She is." A pause.
"I just thought you should know what you're walking into."
I looked at her for a long moment.
Then I opened the door and walked out.
Patricia Hale picked up on the second ring.
"She just told me," I said, "that the man she was seeing wants to be part of Kerensa's life."
A brief silence.
"File that away," Patricia said.
"Don't react to it.
It may be a provocation.
It may be something else entirely."
"It felt like a threat."
"It may have been.
Let me handle the order.
You focus on your daughter."
I sat in the car outside my own house and called Dara.
"How is she?" I asked.
"She's fine.
She's drawing.
She asked me if butterflies sleep."
Something loosened in my chest.
Just slightly.
"Tell her yes," I said.
"Tell her they find a safe leaf and they sleep there."
"Owen." Dara's voice dropped.
"Is it bad?"
"Yeah," I said.
"It's bad."
"But you're going to fix it?"
I looked at the front door of my house.
The house I'd bought before Kerensa was born.
The house I'd thought was safe.
May you like
"Yes," I said.
"I'm going to fix it."
