Felix did not come inside immediately.
He stood on the patio looking toward the darkening yard, his phone still in his hand.
I moved to the sink and rinsed a glass that was already clean.
The old version of me would have asked if something was wrong.
I had spent years filling silences for him.
If his day was difficult, I invited him to talk.
If he was distant, I searched for reasons.
If he was irritated, I checked myself first.
Had I forgotten something?
Said something?
Needed too much?
That evening, I let the silence remain his problem.
When he finally entered, his expression had been rearranged into something neutral.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
He opened a cabinet.
“Yeah.”
“What was the call?”
“Work.”
I almost admired the simplicity.
“On Sunday?”
He smiled without looking at me.
“Clients don’t care what day it is.”
“Apparently not.”
He took another beer from the refrigerator.
Two beers in less than fifteen minutes.
Felix rarely drank quickly unless he was anxious.
I went upstairs.
He did not follow.
In the bedroom, I locked the bathroom door and texted Elise.
Did doctor provide anything?
Her response came quickly.
No. Office says request lacked valid authorization. They called me because it seemed strange.
Good.
Not good enough.
Who sent request?
Krieger’s office.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message.
My attorney says don’t panic. They may be fishing for evidence. He’s contacting clinic directly tomorrow.
I sat on the closed toilet lid.
Fishing for evidence.
Medical concerns.
Custody.
Those words now formed an ugly pattern.
If Felix’s family could not persuade Elise to surrender the baby, perhaps they intended to portray her as unfit.
I thought about Ingrid’s warning at the café.
People might question whether she was emotionally prepared to be a mother.
At the time, it had sounded like intimidation.
Maybe it had also been preparation.
I called Evelyn the next morning from my car.
She had already spoken with Elise’s attorney.
“Can they do this?” I asked.
“They can request almost anything. That doesn’t mean anyone is obligated to provide it.”
“Why medical records?”
“We’re not going to guess.”
“I’m guessing.”
“I know.”
“She told Ingrid she had anxiety in college.”
Evelyn was silent.
“Elise told me yesterday,” I continued. “She took medication for about a year after her father died. That’s it.”
“That may be relevant to why they’re looking.”
“They’re going to call her unstable.”
“They may attempt to.”
“She isn’t.”
“That is not a legal argument, Nora.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“No. It’s reality.”
“Reality still has to be documented.”
The calm in Evelyn’s voice irritated me because I wanted someone to sound as angry as I felt.
Instead she said, “This is why Elise has counsel.”
“What should I do?”
“Continue gathering your own financial information.”
“I have most of it.”
“Send it over.”
“Why does that matter right now?”
“Because you are still married to Felix.”
I closed my eyes.
She was right.
Every time Elise’s situation became more frightening, I forgot that my own danger did not depend on the baby.
Felix and I shared assets.
Accounts.
Debt.
Property.
Ten years of financial decisions.
A man comfortable constructing one deception might have constructed others.
“I’ll send everything today.”
“Good.”
“And Nora?”
“Yes?”
“Felix may realize someone is sharing information.”
“He already looks nervous.”
“Then expect him to start testing people.”
The warning proved accurate sooner than I expected.
That evening, Felix came home with takeout from my favorite Thai restaurant.
He set the bags on the counter.
“No cooking.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“I thought we could have a nice night.”
He had also bought wine.
A bottle we usually saved for anniversaries.
I watched him open it.
“What happened to your client emergency?”
He looked over.
“What?”
“Yesterday.”
“Oh. Nothing. Resolved.”
Quick answer.
Too quick.
We ate at the small kitchen table.
Felix talked more than usual.
About work.
Traffic.
A television series.
Then, casually, he mentioned Sunday.
“Mom felt bad about how tense things got.”
“I’m sure.”
“She likes Elise.”
I almost choked on my wine.
“Really?”
“They go way back.”
“Interesting way of showing it.”
He smiled faintly.
“Elise can be difficult.”
I set down my fork.
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged.
“She’s dramatic.”
“About her baby?”
His eyes lifted.
I had pushed too far.
I softened my expression.
“She looked upset.”
“Pregnancy.”
“Is that all?”
“What else would it be?”
I lowered my gaze to my plate.
“Nothing.”
A few seconds passed.
Then Felix said, “Did she ever talk to you before Sunday?”
There it was.
The test.
I took a sip of wine.
“No.”
“Never?”
“I barely know her.”
“She didn’t message you?”
“No.”
“Facebook?”
“No.”
He nodded.
I waited.
“Why?”
He leaned back.
“She’s been saying weird things.”
“About me?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
“What kind of things?”
“Family stuff.”
Again.
That phrase had become his shield.
I smiled.
“You have a lot of family stuff lately.”
He studied me.
For one dangerous second, I wondered whether my tone had betrayed too much.
Then he laughed.
“You have no idea.”
I almost said, Actually, I do.
Instead I picked up my fork.
“Probably better that way.”
His whole body relaxed.
That was what Evelyn meant by testing.
He needed reassurance that I remained where he had placed me.
Outside the story.
Ignorant.
Dependent.
Safe.
Later that night, he made another move.
We were in bed when he rolled toward me.
His hand rested on my hip.
“Nora?”
“Hmm?”
“Have you ever thought about adoption again?”
Every muscle in my body locked.
The room was dark.
He could not see my face clearly.
That saved me.
“Sometimes.”
“You never say anything.”
“Neither do you.”
He was quiet.
Then he traced his fingers along my arm.
“What if an opportunity came up?”
I stared at the ceiling.
“What kind?”
“I don’t know. Someone young. Maybe someone who wasn’t prepared.”
I could hear my heart.
“You mean private adoption?”
“Maybe.”
“Why are you asking?”
He hesitated.
“Sunday got me thinking.”
Of course it did.
“Elise?”
“No.”
I almost laughed.
He continued.
“Just seeing someone pregnant, I guess.”
I forced a tired sigh.
“I don’t know, Felix.”
His hand stopped.
“I thought you wanted children.”
“I did.”
“Did?”
There was genuine alarm in his voice.
That interested me.
My desire for a child had not simply mattered to him emotionally.
It was structural.
His plan depended on it.
“I’m tired,” I said.
“Of what?”
“Trying.”
He propped himself on one elbow.
“We wouldn’t have to try.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
He watched me.
I turned onto my side.
“Can we talk another time?”
He lay back slowly.
“Sure.”
But he did not sleep for a long time.
Neither did I.
The next afternoon, I received the first financial surprise.
Evelyn called while I was at work.
“Do you recognize a company named Fernbrook Holdings?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You and Felix made a payment to Fernbrook eighteen months ago.”
“How much?”
“Forty thousand dollars.”
I stood up from my desk.
“That’s impossible.”
“I have the statement.”
“Our joint checking?”
“Joint investment account.”
I closed my office door.
“I would remember forty thousand dollars.”
“The transaction memo says property investment.”
“We didn’t buy property.”
“Do you sign investment documents jointly?”
“Usually.”
“Usually?”
“Felix handles more of that.”
Evelyn let the answer hang.
“When was this?”
“March of last year.”
I searched my memory.
March.
Felix had told me he was restructuring part of our portfolio.
He had brought papers home.
I signed several at the kitchen counter while cooking dinner.
A sick feeling spread through me.
“I signed something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Nora.”
“I trusted my husband.”
The sentence came out sharper than I intended.
Evelyn did not react.
“I know.”
“Find out what Fernbrook is.”
“We already started.”
I sat down.
“There’s more?”
“There’s another transfer.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
The likely conception period.
My stomach tightened.
“To Fernbrook?”
“No. A legal trust account.”
“Helmut’s firm?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the wall.
“What for?”
“Unknown.”
“Could it be Elise?”
“We do not assume.”
I nearly laughed at the phrase.
“Everyone keeps telling me not to assume while every assumption gets worse.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The simple answer quieted me.
Evelyn continued.
“We’re requesting copies of anything you legally have access to. Do not confront Felix.”
“I know.”
“Do not move large sums of money without advice.”
“I know.”
“Do not sign anything.”
That one landed differently.
“What would he ask me to sign?”
“I don’t know.”
Again.
The only honest answer.
That evening Felix was already home when I arrived.
He sat at the kitchen island with his laptop open.
When I entered, he closed it.
Too quickly.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“How was work?”
“Normal.”
He smiled.
“I thought we could go out.”
“Tonight?”
“Why not?”
I set down my bag.
“Where?”
“That Italian place you like.”
He was watching me too carefully.
Something had changed.
Maybe he had heard from Daniel.
Maybe he suspected Elise’s attorney.
Maybe he simply sensed my distance.
Either way, Felix was trying to pull me close again.
“Sure.”
At dinner, he ordered champagne.
Not wine.
Champagne.
“What are we celebrating?”
He grinned.
“Us.”
I looked at him.
“Us?”
“When’s the last time we celebrated us without a reason?”
Our tenth anniversary.
While his former girlfriend was already pregnant.
I picked up my water.
“It’s been a while.”
The meal was almost painful in its familiarity.
He asked about my design projects.
Complimented my dress.
Told a story about a coworker.
If I had not known the truth, I would have gone home believing my husband had remembered how to be attentive.
Halfway through dessert, his phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
His smile vanished.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He typed quickly.
Then another message arrived.
And another.
He excused himself.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watched him walk toward the restrooms.
His phone remained in his hand.
I did not follow.
Two minutes later, my own phone buzzed.
Elise.
Someone broke into my apartment.
My breath stopped.
I opened the message.
I’m okay. Door damaged. Nothing obvious missing.
I stood so quickly the table shook.
A waiter looked over.
Another message.
Police are here.
Then a third.
Nora, the folder with Felix’s letters is gone.
I stared at the screen.
The letters.
Elise had told me about them but had not yet sent copies.
Old handwritten notes Felix had given her early in the affair.
Messages where he talked about leaving me.
Perhaps more.
I typed.
Tell police everything.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Felix returned to the table.
His face looked composed.
Too composed.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I looked up at him.
For the first time, suspicion crossed into a place I had resisted entering.
Felix was a liar.
A manipulator.
An adulterer.
But was he capable of arranging a break-in?
I did not know.
That uncertainty frightened me more than an answer would have.
“Leah texted,” I said.
He sat down.
“Work again?”
“Yes.”
“Poor Leah.”
He reached for his champagne.
His hand was steady.
I watched him drink.
“Felix.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think people ever become strangers without realizing it?”
He looked at me.
The question had slipped out before I could stop it.
“What does that mean?”
I smiled faintly.
“Nothing. Just something Leah said.”
He studied me for another second.
Then laughed.
“Your office is depressing.”
He returned to his dessert.
Under the table, I opened Evelyn’s contact.
I did not call.
Not yet.
Instead, I sent five words.
Elise’s apartment was broken into.
The response came immediately.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Restaurant with Felix.
LEAVE NORMALLY. CALL FROM CAR.
I looked across the table at my husband.
He was eating tiramisu.
There was powdered cocoa near the corner of his mouth.
The domestic detail felt obscene.
“Ready to go?” I asked.
“So soon?”
“I’m tired.”
“Sure.”
He paid.
Outside, the night air was cold.
Felix placed one hand on my back as we crossed the parking lot.
A gesture any stranger would have read as loving.
At the car, his phone buzzed again.
He checked it.
This time I saw the name before he turned the screen away.
Daniel.
My pulse jumped.
Felix rejected the call.
“Not answering?”
“Work can wait.”
He smiled and opened my door.
For the first time in thirteen years, I looked at the man holding the door for me and wondered whether getting into a car alone with him was a mistake.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Elise’s Missing Letters Forced Me to Question How Far Felix Would Go, Until One Surviving Photograph Revealed What His Family Feared Most
My Husband Raised His Glass, Spoke in the Language He Thought Was Safe, and Changed Our Marriage Before Dessert Arrived
Part 6 of 35
