That was the sentence Adrian kept repeating to himself while gripping the handle of his suitcase as the driver slowly circled the block in Maplewood Hills. He had pretended he was leaving for a trip.
But instead of going to the airport, he returned quietly through the back gate, using the spare key hidden in a flowerpot. He needed to see the truth with his own eyes.
Inside the hallway, the house felt oddly unfamiliar.
From the kitchen he heard calm, ordinary sounds. Maria, the housekeeper, stood at the counter slicing a pie. She carefully removed extra strawberries from Emma’s plate and then slid Sophie’s glass of milk slightly to the left—exactly where a left-handed child would instinctively reach.
Adrian froze.
His fiancée Vanessa had been living in the house for months and had never noticed that detail.
Emma looked up from the table and asked seriously, “Is there any more chocolate?”
Maria smiled gently.
“There is,” she said, “but slowly. Too much will make your stomach hurt.”
Sophie giggled and leaned her head against Maria’s arm as if she were resting against a safe place.
A sudden wave of shame passed through Adrian.