said to each other in the past four hundred ninety-four days that it doesn’t feel right to just leap in. But Derek ends up speaking first.
“Was there someone here?” He places his laptop bag down on the kitchen island and looks around. “I saw a car parked by the curb.”
She’d asked Castro to leave before Derek came in, and the PI exited the house through the front door, the same way she’d entered. Derek came in through the mudroom. They did not meet.
“Yes, there was.”
He waits. She returns his gaze almost defiantly, daring him to ask her to tell him more. Then she notices the bags under his eyes, the hollowness of his cheeks, the pallor of his skin. Has he been like this for a while? Or just today?
“Are you going to tell me who it was?” he asks.
“It was the private investigator I hired last year to find our son.”
He jolts.
“The same one,” Marin continues calmly, “who told me about your affair with McKenzie Li. Six months, Derek. Wow.”
He opens his mouth to speak, then shuts it again. He seems to not know what to say, and she can only imagine the flurry of emotions competing for dominance inside his head as he tries to decide what to tell her. Does he deny it, or confirm that it’s true? If he acknowledges that it’s true, does he tell her the whole story, or only part of it? If he denies it, how does he explain it away?
It’s interesting to watch a liar when you know they’re lying. The tiny facial twitches, the spotty eye contact, the little vibrations of various body parts. Things you might not notice if you didn’t know they were lying. Things you would never think to look for if you trust them, because you’re assuming everything they tell you is true. Someone who loves you isn’t supposed to lie to you.
Marin and Derek are standing on opposite sides of the large granite island, five feet away from each other. It might as well be five miles. A full minute passes, and he still doesn’t speak. Absurdly, another line from The Princess Bride pops into Marin’s brain. The Man in Black is facing off with Vizzini in order to decide who gets Princess Buttercup: “All right. Where is the poison? The battle of wits has begun.”
Finally, Derek whispers, “I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse, and he hangs his head, placing both hands on the island for support. “She didn’t mean anything to me … I don’t love her.”
Marin pulls her phone out and taps on the Shadow app. She slides it across the cold granite so Derek can see the photo of McKenzie’s beaten face displayed on the screen. He nearly crumples.
“So?” Marin asks. “Are you going to pay it?”
“Oh god,” he chokes. “Oh my god, I never wanted you to know. Marin, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She ignores him, impervious to his obvious pain. “They want two hundred and fifty grand. I know we have it, so that’s not the issue. What are you going to do? Pay it? Or do you think this photo is fake, and she’s extorting you, the way she did her other rich boyfriends? I heard the last one gave her fifty thousand. She’s clearly leveled up with you.”
He stares at the photo again, then looks at Marin, blank. “What are you talking about? What other boyfriends?”
“Oh,” Marin says, and for the first time all day, she smiles. It’s not a kind smile at all. It’s vicious, which is exactly how she feels right now. “You didn’t know. Allow me the pleasure of telling you. Your little sugar baby is a pro. She dates married rich guys and then demands payment when they try to end it. What, did you think she actually loved you?”
Derek doesn’t answer, which is probably wise.
“But the bruises, the whole being-tied-up thing, the ransom demand, that’s all new,” Marin says. “So, what do you think? Real or staged?”
Her husband looks as pale and sick as she’s ever seen him. “I told them I’d pay it. I have the money. It’s in a bag in the car. I’m waiting for a text.”
“Is that the same thing you did when they reached out about Sebastian?”
He freezes. And in that moment, she knows.
“You goddamned sonofabitch! How could you not tell me?!” Marin’s voice thunders in the oversize kitchen, the sound echoing off their designer cabinets.
At the sound of her voice, Derek, at six foot four, cringes into