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  “Are you seeing him?” he asks.

  I freeze, not knowing what to say.

  “Are you seeing Henry?” he asks again. This time his voice is more urgent, annoyed.

  “I don't know why it matters,” I say. “You've been seeing everyone.”

  “That has nothing to do with anything. I'm not sneaking around sleeping with my ex-boyfriend.”

  “I thought that's what we had,” I lie. “You made it perfectly clear that you wanted an open marriage.”

  “I did no such thing,” he says, furrowing his brow. “We never talked about anything like that.” His voice is loud and intense. If he's trying to intimidate me, it's working.

  I reach for my phone but he closes his hand around it and pushes me away.

  There's a lock and he doesn't know the password.

  He turns toward me and glares. “Are you going to unlock this or not?”

  I try to remember whether I have any incriminating evidence on the phone. I mean, there are messages between Henry and me but are there any messages about Franklin and what he did to that girl?

  I don't think so but I can't be sure.

  Shit, I have been so reckless.

  “I need the code,” he insists.

  I shake my head no.

  He leans over to me, so close that when he opens his mouth, I can smell his breath.

  “Tell me the code,” he says and a little drop of spit lands on my cheek.

  I again shake my head no.

  He doesn't ask again.

  Instead, he grabs my hand and forces my thumb onto the fingerprint recognition circle. I wince from the pain.

  He doesn't let me go until the phone unlocks.

  I rub my hand tenderly trying to make the throbbing go away. He doesn't apologize and I swallow hard, waiting for what's to come.

  He is in my messages. My heart starts to beat so hard it's practically jumping out of my chest. I take quick shallow breaths to try to calm down but it's all to no avail.

  “You're seeing him again,” he says quietly.

  “We're friends,” I whisper. “I thought you wanted us to be friends.”

  “No,” he says sternly. “You're not friends. You're lying.”

  I let out a slight sigh of relief, realizing that I was lucky enough not to discuss anything too personal over text. All that Franklin suspects is that I am cheating on him. That's not great but it could be a lot worse.

  “Are you seeing him?” he asks.

  I shake my head no.

  “I don't believe you,” he says.

  “Why do you care anyway? I've caught you sleeping around with… how many women is it?”

  “That doesn't matter. I'm a man.”

  “Exactly, you're just like me.”

  “No, I'm not,” he says, shaking his finger in my face. “I can do whatever the fuck I want and you can’t."

  I don't know how to make it stop or how to make him go away. I don't want to make it worse but I have to stand up for myself.

  “Henry is just a friend. Like I said before,” I say it as calmly as possible.

  “You don't text like this to a friend.” He shows me the screen.

  I stare at the words "I love you" and pray for them to give me strength.

  “That was just him texting me when he wanted us to get back together. He's going through a lot with his mother and he is my ex. As you know, the breakup has been hard and—"

  “You're a fucking bitch!” He punches me.

  It comes out of nowhere. I’ve never been hit before and the pain catches me by surprise.

  The hurt is localized to my eye but it quickly spreads in waves. I can't see anything as my vision goes dark.

  Another blow sends me to the floor and something that tastes like iron gushes into my mouth. I grab onto my nose trying to contain the blood and the pain gets worse.

  Tears stream down my face but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My cries are lost somewhere in the back of my throat.

  The third jab hits me right in the stomach. I topple over in half and stay there, covering my head with my hands.

  “Don't you ever sneak around behind my back again,” Franklin hisses into my ear.

  Out of the corner of my eye and through the tears and the pain, I see him lift up his fist again. I close my eyes and brace myself for impact but nothing comes. Instead, Franklin just tosses my phone on the bed next to me.

  “You don't get to do whatever the fuck you want,” he says. “You're my wife and I own you.”

  13

  Aurora

  Alone in the room, writhing around, I let out a sigh of relief. The throbbing doesn’t stop, but it’s not just the physical pain that hurts me.

  I knew that Franklin Parks was capable of a lot of things but I had no idea that he was capable of this. I never thought he would raise his hand to me. Not like this.

  That was naïve. When he slapped me across the face in anger, perhaps then I should have run away but I didn't. I stayed put but things only got worse.

  I should have known the person that he was the minute that he laid his finger on me. In another world, I would have never said yes to this wedding and this marriage.

  It’s almost as if everything that I have known has gone out of the window. I'm lost and with every passing moment, I go deeper and deeper into the abyss.

  My nose is throbbing and when I touch it, I recoil from the pain. Still, I can't help but bring my fingers close to it again and try to feel for something. I force myself off the bed and drag myself to the bathroom.

  The reflection in the mirror makes me sick to my stomach. My eyes are swollen shut and my face is covered in blood. My nose is still bleeding and the skin around it is puffy and turning blue.

  I have never seen anything like this before, except in a movie. My father is capable of a lot of things but he had never laid his hands on my mother, me, or anyone else that I know of. I try to figure out what to do.

  Do I put ice on this?

  Do I wash off my face first?

  Should I go to the hospital?

  I take a washcloth and put it under the stream of hot water. I dab it lightly and press it to my face. Even the slightest pressure is hard to bear.

  My thoughts return to Henry. If Franklin's capable of doing something like this to me, what is he capable of doing to him?

  And then something else occurs to me.

  Did he actually think that I was having an affair or is this just a ploy to get me to confess to what is really going on?

  These questions along with about a hundred others speed through my mind but I can't come up with any answers. The person that I thought Franklin was had somehow disappeared. I didn't know much about him but I was certain that the things that I knew were right. Then suddenly, I discovered things that made him someone else.

  I would have been a lot more careful with my phone calls and texts if I had any idea that it actually bothered him. He had been so nonchalant about his own affairs that I thought that he existed on a whole other plane of existence.

  He wanted to marry me even though he knew that I didn't love him. He wanted me as a trophy and we both knew that. He invited Henry over for dinner and acted like we could all be friends but not once did I ever suspect him having even a tinge of jealousy. Then this happened.

  “What the hell?” I ask myself out loud, staring into my eyes in the mirror. “What the hell just happened?”

  Despite how I look now, there are some things that I should be grateful for. Luckily, he did not discover the cameras. He doesn't know that I had planted them but I have not had a chance to see if all of the connections are right.

  I return to my phone and tap over to the secret folder in the back. The app looks just like a regular news app on the outside. That’s on purpose.

  I click on it and hold my breath. I had set everything up just as Jackie had showed me but I was supposed to make sure to double check that it broadcasts to my phone before I left. Franklin had com
e in before I could do that.

  I tap my fingers on the counter before forcing my eyes onto the screen.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, just under my breath. “There it is. The image of the master bedroom along with his office are crystal clear.”

  I click on the back of the file, the previous recording, and watch him punch me over and over again.

  It's an out of body experience. This just happened to me and here I am watching it as if it is happening to someone else. I want to pull away but I can't.

  The door swings open and I close the app with one quick motion and click on Facebook.

  “How are you feeling?” Franklin asks.

  “Okay, I guess,” I say, turning toward him.

  I brace myself for impact but by the way that he is standing in the doorway, I can tell that he's here for something else.

  “I just wanted to…check up on you,” he says quietly. “I didn't want you to be hurt.”

  I want to say, Well, then you shouldn’t have attacked me, but I bite my tongue.

  “Maybe I should go to the hospital,” I say.

  “No, absolutely not.”

  I touch the washcloth on my face and try to wipe away some of the blood, wincing in pain.

  “Here, let me do this,” he says. I sit down on the toilet and let him wash the blood off.

  He is surprisingly gentle, not pressing too hard when the pain gets too much.

  “I don't think that your nose is broken,” he says. “Just badly bruised.”

  “Well, that's something, I guess,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Listen, I know that this was really fucked up and… I just want to apologize.”

  “Okay,” I say slowly, elongating the second part of the word.

  Does he really think that an apology is enough?

  On the other hand, it's a lot more than I had expected so, perhaps that's something.

  “You can't go to the hospital but I'll call a nurse to come in and check up on you.”

  “A nurse?” I ask.

  “Yeah. She's a private medical professional who makes house calls for people who want to keep things away from prying eyes.”

  That's one way of putting it, I laugh silently to myself.

  My phone rings and we both glance down at the screen. When I see that it's Henry, my blood runs cold.

  “Answer it,” Franklin instructs.

  14

  Henry

  I don't have a reason to call her but I do anyway. I miss her and I need to hear her voice. I also want to know if she has set up the recording equipment and if there's anything else to worry about, but mainly I want to know that she’s okay.

  “Hey there,” I say. “How are you?”

  “Fine. How are you?”

  She pauses for a moment in between the word fine and the question.

  “What's going on?” I ask.

  “Nothing, just hanging out.”

  It sounds like something is off. It's almost as if someone is hovering over her but I can't quite tell.

  “Do you want to FaceTime?”

  “No,” Aurora says very quickly. “I mean, I can't right now.”

  “So, I wanted to ask you about–”

  “Yeah! I would like to arrange something for the two of you again,” she says, interrupting me.

  I furrow my brows and glance down at the phone, making sure that I have heard her right.

  What is she talking about? I wonder but I don't ask.

  “Chelsea was asking about you and I think that Franklin and I can put something together again, if you want.”

  “Yeah, I'd like that,” I lie.

  My heart starts to beat very fast. I clench my fists and stare down at the whites of my knuckles. We never talked about Chelsea.

  She's telling me this because something is wrong. Franklin is there. He’s either listening or we’re being recorded. She’s telling me this for a reason.

  “I guess I can call Franklin and talk to him about that but I wanted to just touch base and…well, you know how I am. I'm not the bravest around hot girls.”

  She lets out a nervous laugh. “No, of course not. You don’t have any moves at all.”

  We continue to banter back-and-forth but my mind begins to race. How could I have been so stupid? Why weren't we more careful with meeting up or talking on the phone? What exactly does Franklin know?

  “Listen, I have to go. I’m running late for Pilates.”

  My heart sinks. Aurora doesn’t do Pilates.

  “Listen—” I start to say something but she cuts me off.

  “I really have to go,” she says and hangs up.

  In a fit of rage, I throw the phone across the room and onto the bed.

  No, no, no! This isn't fucking happening. She promised me that everything would be all right but she can't make a promise like that. I make a fist and punch the pillow on my bed but it's too soft and it doesn't make enough of an impact.

  I throw some jabs at the bed. It's firmer and I imagine that it's Franklin's face that my hand is colliding with. With each punch, my rage multiplies and I let out a primal yelp.

  When I open my eyes, I come face-to-face with the wall and it takes all the strength of my body to not drive my knuckles through it.

  No, I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I'm going to save my hand for when I drive it into his nose.

  The following morning, I go into work unsure as to what to expect. I brace myself for the worst but I promise myself that I will not betray Aurora and attack Franklin outright. That's not going to accomplish anything.

  If this is a game that we have to play, then I'm going to not only play but also win.

  I work in the office a few days a week and this is my usual day. I get in early, check my emails, and jot down some notes from the last interview that I conducted.

  I don't have the same freedom working here as I did when I traveled to the Midwest but I appreciate the opportunity and the job. It keeps me close to home and I still get to do the podcast.

  Nowadays, the format has shifted a little since I can't do that many interviews. Instead of investigating the story myself, I simply rehash and go over a number of famous crimes from the past. Currently, I'm working on the O.J. Simpson case.

  People my age and decades older remember the trial and all of the news coverage leading up to it but the younger generation doesn’t know many of the details. It's my job to inform them.

  Surprisingly, this new format is going well and attracting new listeners every day. Say what you will about Franklin but he has an eye and an understanding for what the market wants.

  The other thing that I really appreciate about this job is how much less work it entails. Investigative reporting is not only a full-time job but one that often requires eighty-hour work weeks. It involves a lot of tracking down leads and going after people, requesting interviews over and over again until they finally agree.

  With this new approach? All I have to do is review the stories and articles that have already been published, synthesize the story, write out the script and make it sound interesting.

  My office phone goes off and it's Carolyn, the personal assistant for the floor and all of the reporters here.

  “Mr. Parks would like to see you in his office,” she says in her usual cheery voice. She's the only one who has ever asked about my mother’s treatment and I really appreciate her concern.

  “Thanks, tell him I'll be up in a little bit.”

  “No, he wants to see you now. Says it’s urgent.”

  My blood runs cold. I clear my throat and say, “Sure, I'll be right up.”

  When I hang up the phone, I exhale slowly.

  What do you want? I wonder. Did you catch Aurora with the recording equipment? Is everything over? If so, why do you want to see me in your office?

  15

  Henry

  When I get to his office, I see Franklin on the phone, facing away from me. He sits in his impressive, royal blue satin wingback
chair and waves to me to come over. I take a few steps forward and don't close the door until he turns around and points at it.

  “Listen, I need this done or you're getting fired,” Franklin says and hangs up.

  He looks at me and says, “Honestly, some people just can't be bothered to do any work without a threat.”

  “I didn't realize that you were such a hard boss,” I say, smiling at the corner of my mouth.

  Franklin tilts his head and brushes his fingers through his hair.

  “Well, you just happen to be very good at your job, otherwise you’d find out just how difficult I can be to deal with.”

  The calmness in his voice sends shivers down my arms. If he suspects that something is going on and is acting like this, then he is a much better actor than I have ever suspected him to be.

  “Don't just stand there,” he says, offering me a seat. “Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea? It's probably too early for a martini, right?”

  “Well, it is just after eleven.”

  “The day that I've been having, I could use a stiff drink but I think I'll hold off until noon otherwise I might not make it through the rest of the day.”

  “What's going on?” I ask.

  “You don't wanna know. The merger is really taking a toll on me and I’m tempted to just say fuck it.”

  “Why don't you? I’m sure that will make your wife happy,” I joke.

  He looks up at me, narrowing his eyes and then he starts to laugh.

  “I'm not so sure,” he says, tilting his head. “Well, I don't know what Aurora is thinking but her father won’t be happy.”

  I nod, not exactly sure where to go from here.

  “So, how's everything? How's your mom feeling?”

  “She's doing well. Chemo and radiation are hard but she's keeping her spirits up. Thank you again for everything that you've done,” I say. “That money has been invaluable.”

  “Oh, shit, don't even worry about it,” he says, waving his hand. “I was just asking about her health but I'm glad to hear that things are good.”