Chapter 2

I carried a sleeping Sophie home around dinnertime.

Ethan was waiting on the front steps with two bulging grocery bags. He smiled when he saw me.

"The day's not over yet. I thought I'd cook one more meal for you two."

If I wanted evidence, I would have to keep him close. My skin crawled, but I swallowed the urge to throw him out.

Later, Ethan emerged from the kitchen carrying a glass. "You were sweating so badly at lunch that I worried you might have heat exhaustion. I made you some iced mint tea."

A chill settled in my chest. "Thanks."

When I saw the relief he tried to hide, I smiled.

"It's late. You can stay in the guest room tonight and leave in the morning."

He looked stunned by his good fortune and agreed at once.

I handed him a glass of milk laced with sleeping pills. "Sophie went to bed early. No point letting fresh milk go to waste."

He drained it in one swallow. "Claire, does this mean you're finally willing to forgive me?"

I gave a soft laugh. "You'll find out on Sophie's birthday."

He grabbed my hand, beaming.

After I made sure he was deeply asleep, I pressed his fingertip to his phone and unlocked it.

I searched every messaging app. He had been careful. There was nothing.

His call history was my last resort. My finger stopped over a one-minute call with an insurance company.

A heart transplant cost more than Ethan could possibly afford. Stories about husbands killing their wives for insurance money flashed through my mind. I memorized the company's name.

The next morning, after dropping Sophie off at school, I called the insurer's fraud department. As the insured person, I was entitled to request the policy file. Megan came with me while I signed the paperwork and showed my identification.

An investigator returned with a thick envelope. "Ms. Sutton, this accidental death policy was opened six years ago. Ethan Pierce is the owner and beneficiary. The application includes what appears to be your signed consent."

The signature was not mine.

Outside the building, I stared at six years of premium statements and a photocopy of the forged application.

Before we had even divorced, Ethan had insured my life, forged my consent, and chosen how I would die.

Sunlight beat down on my shoulders, yet I shook from the cold.

Tears streamed down Megan's face. "He's a murderer. That bastard."

I patted her back. "This time, they're the ones going to hell."

I called Ethan.

"The insurance company contacted me today. They said someone took out a policy on me and needed me to confirm it."

Panic sharpened his voice, though he tried to sound calm. "It's probably a scam, Claire. Just block the number."

"That's what I thought. I already did."

He exhaled audibly. I hung up with a silent sneer.

My daughter's heart would keep your son alive, and my death benefit would pay for the surgery.

Ethan, you really did think of everything.

My call rattled him exactly as I had hoped. Late that night, he got into his car and headed toward the hospital.

I had been waiting for him. I followed.