Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN HIS MESSAGES
The divorce discovery process began quietly.
I did not ask Sarah to hunt for an affair.
I already had enough reason to leave.
Then Marcus’s attorney disclosed requested communication categories connected to marital spending.
One credit-card charge stood out.
Hotel Langham Chicago.
Two nights.
During the transplant isolation period.
Marcus claimed work housing was required because staff were minimizing family exposure.
Reasonable.
Except hospital records showed approved accommodation at a different hotel.
So why Langham?
Sarah requested supporting statements through proper discovery.
The room had been booked under Marcus’s card.
Second guest:
Elena Walsh.
I stared at the document.
Sarah said nothing.
There was no need.
“Maybe work,” I finally said.
“Maybe.”
I appreciated that she did not push me toward the conclusion.
Then came the messages.
Not explicit.
At first.
Marcus:
Can’t keep pretending I don’t need this.
Elena:
Then stop pretending.
Marcus:
After project ends.
Elena:
You always say after.
Dates.
Six weeks before my appendix ruptured.
Another:
Elena:
How is Clara?
Marcus:
Stable. Still upstairs.
Elena:
You should see her.
Marcus:
Not tonight.
My eyes blurred.
Elena had told him to visit me.
He chose not to.
That somehow hurt worse.
Then:
Elena:
You can’t avoid your wife because you feel guilty.
Marcus:
I’m not discussing this.
There it was.
Guilt.
Not busyness.
Not quarantine.
Guilt.
More messages followed.
The affair had lasted at least eight months.
Elena was married too.
Her husband lived mostly in New York.
My hands shook.
Sarah touched the stack.
“Do you want a break?”
“No.”
I kept reading.
Then I found a message dated October 11.
The night my chart was altered.
Marcus:
I clicked into Clara by mistake. Patel caught it.
Elena:
Then leave it alone.
Marcus:
Her labs look worse.
Elena:
Marcus.
Marcus:
I know.
Elena:
Go upstairs.
Marcus:
I can’t.
Elena:
Why?
Long pause in the message chain.
Then:
Marcus:
Because if I look at her, I’ll have to admit what I’m doing.
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The reason.
Not surgery.
Not quarantine.
Not saving lives.
Cowardice.
He avoided my hospital room because seeing me would have forced him to confront the wife he was betraying five floors above his mistress.
Then the next message made me cold.
Elena:
Did you change the antibiotic?
Marcus:
Yes. Accidentally.
Elena:
May you like
Twice?
No answer followed.
