Chapter 2 - THE CONDO WITH TWO LIVES
There are moments when heartbreak feels dramatic.
This wasn’t one of them.
This felt cold.
Quiet.
Administrative.
I stood beneath the condo’s kitchen light staring at the envelope while Julian carried my hospital bag into the guest room.
Mrs. Clara Sterling.
Not Miss Clara Bennett.
Not Clara Hale.
Sterling.
My husband’s last name.
I slid the envelope beneath a grocery flyer before Julian returned.
“You’re staying here tonight,” he said. “I’ll sleep at a colleague’s place.”
“You don’t live here?”
His hesitation lasted less than a second.
“No.”
I looked toward the two coffee mugs drying beside the sink.
The navy slippers.
His favorite brand of cereal.
“You seem comfortable here.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“I help Clara when treatments become difficult.”
He left twenty minutes later.
The instant the door locked, I stopped limping.
My injuries were real, but my memory loss wasn’t.
I searched carefully.
Nothing obvious appeared in the bedroom, but inside the hall closet I found an old leather briefcase hidden behind winter coats.
It belonged to Julian.
Inside were university documents, insurance statements, and receipts from the condo.
Then I found a photograph.
Julian stood outside a courthouse beside a younger Clara.
She wore a simple ivory dress.
He wore a black suit.
They were both holding a marriage certificate.
The photograph was dated eleven years earlier.
I had known Julian for six years.
We had supposedly been married for three.
My hands started shaking.
Then I turned the photograph over.
May you like
Someone had written a sentence across the back:
THE MARRIAGE MUST REMAIN SECRET UNTIL ARTHUR IS GONE.
