“Marcus,” I said, my eyes still fixed on the live security feed. “I need you to listen carefully.”
On the screen, my husband, Greg, was laughing.
Not nervous laughing.
Not guilty laughing.
He was laughing like a man who had just won something.
The blonde in the sundress had already disappeared inside my parents’ anniversary home with her champagne and her designer luggage. Greg stayed on the porch a moment longer, looking out over the ocean like he owned the tide itself.
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