It was the unspoken agreement we'd settled into after the incident. His phone was an open book. His schedule arrived in my inbox like clockwork. Every business dinner, every social event, he brought me along.
All to give me peace of mind. All to prove his loyalty to this marriage.
But this time, I just looked at the phone. I didn't take it.
Because I knew that even if I tore that phone apart, I wouldn't find a thing.
Not because he was innocent. Because he had a second phone.
Hidden in the false bottom of the drawer where I kept my lingerie.
Otis was confident I'd come up empty. He tossed the phone onto the bed and strolled into the bathroom without a care in the world.
The sound of running water soon drifted through the door.
I turned and walked into the closet. I reached into the hidden compartment of the drawer and pulled out the second phone.
It was locked. The passcode was Vivian Whitmore's birthday.
The lock screen and wallpaper were both photos of Vivian.
The photo album was filled with intimate snapshots of the two of them together, moment after moment of stolen affection.
Ten minutes ago, Vivian had sent him a message.