back tonight.”
“Tonight?”
Her smile widened.
“Oh, Ethan didn’t tell you?”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
Margaret continued. “We’re hosting a celebration. Eight hundred thousand dollars. Caterers, orchestra, imported flowers, the governor’s old event planner. Over a hundred guests.”
“For what?”
She savored her answer.
“Ethan and Vanessa.”
Vanessa Hale. Ethan’s twenty-eight-year-old “marketing consultant.”
The woman whose messages I’d discovered six months earlier.
Margaret leaned closer.
“She’s pregnant.”
For a second, everything went silent.
Then Ethan said quietly, “I was going to tell you after the divorce.”
I stared at him.
Seven
