Chapter 6: Diane
I walked out of the kitchen into the hallway, pulling the door half-closed behind me.
"How did you get my number?" I asked.
"Vanessa's phone," Diane said.
"She left it at my husband's office three weeks ago.
He didn't tell me whose it was.
I found it in his desk."
"You went through his desk."
"I go through everything now." Her voice was steady but there was something underneath it — not anger exactly.
Exhaustion.
The kind that comes from months of suspecting and finally knowing.
"I found your number in her contacts.
I didn't know who you were at first.
Then I looked you up."
"How long has this been going on?" I asked.
"Seven months that I can prove.
Probably longer."
I leaned against the hallway wall.
Through the half-open door I could hear my mother's voice, low and even, and Vanessa saying nothing.
"The calendar entry," I said.
"April 14th.
Noah."
"I know about that," Diane said.
"Marcus told me it was cancelled.
He said Vanessa changed her mind."
"Why was she bringing my son there at all?"
A pause.
"I think she wanted Marcus to see her as a family.
Not just as someone he was meeting in secret.
She wanted to look like she was already building something with him."
The words landed quietly.
I didn't respond right away.
"She was using Noah," I said.
Not a question.
"That's how it looks to me," Diane said.
"I'm sorry.
I know that's hard to hear."
"Did Marcus know she was planning to leave me?"
"He knew she was unhappy.
He told me she talked about leaving.
He said he wasn't encouraging it." A short pause.
"I don't know how much of that I believe."
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I've already spoken to a lawyer," she said.
"I have documentation.
Emails, locations, the office visits.
I'm not calling you for help.
I'm calling you because you deserved to know.
And because of the boy."
"Noah."
"Yes.
What she did tonight — locking him in that car — that's not the first time she's put him in a position to make her life easier.
Marcus mentioned it once.
He said she talked about Noah like he was an obstacle."
I closed my eyes for a moment.
"Thank you for calling," I said.
"I'm sorry it had to be this way," Diane said.
And then she was gone.
I stood in the hallway for a moment.
Then I pushed the kitchen door open and walked back in.
Vanessa looked up.
She read something in my face.
"Who was that?" she said.
"Diane Hale."
The color left her face so completely and so fast that my mother reached out and touched the table edge as if she needed something solid.
"She knows," I said.
"She's known for a while.
She has documentation."
Vanessa said nothing.
"She also told me why you wanted to take Noah to that house." I sat down across from her.
"You wanted Marcus to see you as someone who already had a family.
Someone worth choosing."
Still nothing.
"You were going to use my son," I said.
"To make yourself look like something you weren't."
Vanessa's hands were flat on the table.
She didn't move them.
"I want you to leave tonight," I said.
"You can take what you need for a few days.
We'll arrange the rest later."
"Ethan—"
"I'm not asking."
She looked at my mother.
My mother looked back at her without expression.
Vanessa stood up.
She picked up her wine glass, then set it back down.
She walked out of the kitchen without another word.
I heard her footsteps on the stairs.
The sound of the bedroom door.
Drawers opening.
My mother reached across the table and put her hand over mine.
"He's going to be alright," she said.
"I know," I said.
"I just keep thinking about his face at that window."
"I know," she said.
"So do I."
Twenty minutes later, the front door opened and closed.
The house went quiet.
But upstairs, Noah's door was still shut, and behind it, my son was sleeping.
And for the first time in longer than I could name, I felt like the house was telling the truth about itself.
Then my phone lit up on the table.
A voicemail.
From a number I recognized this time.
Vanessa's sister.
*Call me back.
There's something you don't know yet.
May you like
About Noah's medical records.
About what Vanessa did six weeks ago.*
