Chapter 4

I heard him stand outside the door for a while, then came a heavy sigh and the sound of the door closing as he left.

I was alone in the house again.

This time, I didn't cry.

Tears couldn't solve any problems.

I needed evidence.

I needed to know what had really happened.

My gaze fell on the nightstand.

There lay Marcus's backup phone.

He had two phones, one for work and one personal.

He never left his work phone behind, but he didn't use this personal one much and sometimes forgot it at home.

My heartbeat began to accelerate.

This was an opportunity.

I picked up that phone.

It had a password.

A four-digit pattern lock.

I took a deep breath and started trying.

Our wedding anniversary? No.

His birthday? No.

My birthday? No.

Our son's birthday?

I traced our son's birthdate on the screen with my finger.

Click—the phone unlocked.

My heart raced.

I opened the call log.

Recent calls were all from friends and family.

He must have used his work phone for last night's call.

I opened his Snapchat.

His Snapchat was clean without many chat logs.

No pinned contacts, no suspicious female profile pictures.

Had I guessed wrong?

Unwilling to give up, I opened the browser.

Search history.

When I saw the recent search entries, my breathing stopped instantly.

My fingers began to tremble uncontrollably.

There, several lines were clearly displayed:

"Can a man who had a vasectomy still get a woman pregnant?"

"What's the success rate of vasectomy reversal?"

"If a wife gets pregnant after a husband's vasectomy, whose child is it?"

"What materials are needed for a paternity test?"

"How does the law handle illegitimate children?"

One after another, sentence after sentence, like sharp knives stabbing into my eyes.

Vasectomy?

Pregnancy?

Paternity test?

Marcus had gotten a vasectomy over ten years ago, after our son was born.

It was our joint decision.

He said he felt bad for me and didn't want me to suffer through childbirth again.

I was moved to tears at the time, thinking I'd married the best man in the world.

For all these years, we'd been careful about contraception.

But now...

My hand involuntarily moved to my lower abdomen.

Postmenopausal bleeding...

Director Wilson's grave expression...

That phrase "very unusual"...

Marcus's pale face and resentful look...

An absurd thought that I didn't dare believe sprouted in my mind like a seed, growing wildly.