Mark hadn’t been working late. He hadn’t been at the gym. He’d been here. In this house. While she napped, trusting him with the two people she loved most in the world.
And it wasn’t just him.
That night, after tucking Ellie into bed—after smoothing her hair and whispering, “You’re so brave, my love”—Lena walked into the study. Mark’s laptop sat open on the desk, screen glowing softly. He must have forgotten to log out before rushing off to his “night shift” at the hospital.
Her fingers hovered over the trackpad. Guilt pricked at her—this was his private space. But then she remembered Ellie’s flinch. The way she’d stopped singing in the shower. The stuffed rabbit, Mr. Nibbles, always missing from her bed on days Mark claimed “she needed extra discipline.”
She clicked.
