Instead, I booked the next flight. Business class. Outrageously expensive. Worth every cent.
By sunset, I was standing in the hallway of the resort I had paid for, knocking on the door of the suite booked under my husband’s name.
A woman answered.
She was young. Polished. Confident in a way that made my chest tighten.
“I’m looking for my husband,” I said calmly.
She frowned. “Husband?”
Mark stepped into view behind her.
The color drained from his face.
That’s when everything fell into place.
Margaret—my mother-in-law—appeared moments later, purse tucked neatly under her arm, her expression shifting from shock to calculation in seconds.
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