Chapter 4 - WHAT JESSICA FOUND
The pounding stopped when blue lights reflected against my living-room wall.
I stood at the top of the stairs with one hand over my stomach and listened to the murmur of voices outside.
Derek did not sound desperate anymore.
He sounded polished.
That was one of his talents.
He could change personalities the moment another person entered the room.
I watched the camera feed from my phone as an officer approached the back patio.
Derek stepped away from the door and immediately lowered his voice.
"This is my house too."
The officer asked him for identification.
Derek handed it over.
Then he pointed toward the house.
"My wife changed the locks without telling me."
The officer looked toward the covered camera.
"Did you put your hand over that security camera?"
Derek hesitated.
"I was trying to get her attention."
I almost laughed.
The officer knocked once and asked me to come downstairs if I felt safe doing so.
I opened the back door with the chain still attached.
"Ma'am, your husband says he needs personal documents from inside."
"His lawyer can arrange a time for him to collect property."
Derek shook his head.
"I need them tonight."
The officer looked at him.
"What documents?"
Derek's eyes met mine.
"Medical paperwork."
My pulse jumped.
"What medical paperwork?" I asked.
His jaw tightened.
"Mine."
"Be specific."
"You know exactly what I'm talking about."
The officer looked between us.
"Sir, if there's a dispute over documents, I'm not going to referee ownership tonight."
Derek took a breath.
"She has private medical records that belong to me."
"I have an unopened clinic envelope in a shared household file box."
"It's not unopened."
I stared at him.
"How would you know?"
He stopped.
The officer's gaze sharpened.
Derek recovered quickly.
"Because I opened it when it arrived."
"Then why didn't you take it with you when you moved out?"
"I forgot it."
The answer came too quickly.
I remembered Jessica's photograph.
Her image showed a laboratory report lying on a dark wooden desk.
The envelope upstairs could not be the same physical paper unless Derek had moved it back and forth.
Or unless there were multiple copies.
The officer told Derek he could arrange a civil standby at another time.
Derek argued for another minute.
Then the officer's patience visibly ended.
"You're leaving tonight."
Derek looked at me.
"This isn't over."
The officer turned his head.
"Sir, don't make statements that can be interpreted as threats."
Derek's face flushed.
"I didn't threaten her."
"Then leave it there."
He walked away without another word.
I locked the door behind the officer and immediately called Jessica.
She answered in a whisper.
"Did he leave?"
"Yes."
"He knows."
"Knows what?"
"That I found the report."
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
"Where did you find it?"
"In the desk in my apartment."
"His desk?"
"He moved a small desk into my spare room last week."
"And the report was inside?"
"Under a stack of car insurance papers."
I closed my eyes.
"Why were you looking?"
Jessica was silent for several seconds.
"Because after the ultrasound, I asked him to show me proof that the vasectomy had worked."
"What did he say?"
"He said he threw the paperwork away."
"So you searched his desk."
"Yes."
There was shame in her voice, but not enough to make me feel sorry for her.
"Did you take it?"
"No."
"Good."
"I photographed it and put it back exactly where I found it."
"Then why did he come here?"
Jessica exhaled shakily.
"Because I asked him why his test said motile sperm were present."
I gripped the edge of the counter.
"You confronted him?"
"I was angry."
"What did he say?"
"He said the report was old and meaningless."
"It was three weeks after the vasectomy."
"I know."
"What else?"
Jessica's voice became smaller.
"He said there was another copy at your house and that you were going to twist it."
So that was why he had driven over.
He wanted the paper gone before my lawyer could learn it existed.
"Jessica, send me the original photograph as a file, not a screenshot."
She did not answer.
"Why?"
"Because my lawyer may need it."
"I'm not getting dragged into your divorce."
The anger returned so fast I almost welcomed it.
"You moved in with my husband the day he left me."
"I didn't know he was lying about this."
"You knew he was married."
Jessica went silent.
I did not soften my voice.
"You are already in my divorce."
"He told me you two were finished."
"Did he tell you that before or after the hotel in uptown Charlotte?"
Silence.
I knew immediately.
"So it was you."
Jessica's breath caught.
"What hotel?"
"Don't insult me."
"Sarah—"
"Six weeks before my positive pregnancy test."
Jessica did not deny it.
That hurt more than if she had.
I stared through the dark kitchen window and saw my own reflection looking back.
"How long?"
"I don't want to do this over the phone."
"How long, Jessica?"
"Derek should tell you."
I laughed once.
"Derek has had plenty of opportunities to tell me things."
She whispered something I could barely hear.
"Three months."
"Three months before he left?"
"Yes."
The room tilted.
I gripped the counter harder.
Three months.
That meant Derek had been sleeping with Jessica before the vasectomy.
Before I became pregnant.
Before he accused me.
Before he walked out.
The pregnancy had not destroyed our marriage.
The betrayal was already there.
My pregnancy had simply given him a story he could use.
"Why did he get the vasectomy?" Jessica asked suddenly.
I closed my eyes.
That question cut in a different direction.
"We had talked about not having children for years."
"But you just said you were discussing trying again."
"We were."
"Then why did he go through with it?"
I had asked myself that question after the positive test.
Derek had scheduled the procedure months earlier.
When we began talking about children again, he insisted the appointment was only a consultation.
Then he returned home with an ice pack and told me he had decided to get it done because he did not want us making a decision based on emotion.
I had been furious.
We fought for two days.
Then we reconciled.
Less than two months later, I learned I was pregnant.
At the time, the pregnancy had felt like fate overriding his decision.
Now I wondered whether the vasectomy had been part of something else.
"I don't know," I said.
Jessica was quiet.
Then she said, "He told me you forced him to do it."
My eyes opened.
"What?"
"He said you were terrified of pregnancy and demanded he get sterilized."
I felt heat rise into my face.
"That's a lie."
"I know that now."
"Do you?"
"Sarah, I'm trying to tell you the truth."
"You're telling me pieces of it because he's lying to you now."
She flinched even through the phone.
I could hear it in her silence.
"You're right," she finally said.
That answer surprised me.
"I don't expect you to forgive me."
"Good."
"But I think you need to know what he told me."
"Then tell me everything."
Jessica took a slow breath.
"Not tonight."
I almost ended the call.
Then she added, "I have messages."
My anger sharpened into focus.
"What kind of messages?"
"Messages from before he left you."
"About me?"
"About the marriage."
"And the pregnancy?"
She hesitated.
"Some of them."
My skin went cold.
"What did he say?"
"I need to look through them first."
"Jessica."
"There are hundreds."
"Send them all."
"I can't tonight."
"Why?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Because he's coming back."
I heard a door close on her end.
Then Jessica inhaled sharply.
"He's here."
The call ended.
I stared at my phone.
Ten seconds later, a message arrived from an unknown number.
It contained one photograph.
The image showed a text conversation between Derek and Jessica dated four days before I took the pregnancy test.
Jessica had written: WHEN ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO LEAVE HER?
Derek's reply was visible beneath it.
SOON.
Then another message from him.
I JUST NEED A CLEAN REASON SO SHE LOOKS LIKE THE ONE WHO BROKE IT.
I read the sentence three times.
My hands began to shake.
The pregnancy had not made Derek believe I cheated.
He had already been waiting for a reason to make me look guilty.
And four days later, I had handed him the perfect one in the form of two pink lines.
My phone rang.
Derek.
I let it go to voicemail.
He called again.
Then a third time.
Finally, a text appeared.
WHATEVER JESSICA SENT YOU IS OUT OF CONTEXT.
I stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
DELETE IT.
I forwarded both to Nina.
Her answer arrived less than a minute later.
SAVE EVERYTHING.
A second message followed.
AND DO NOT WARN HIM WHAT ELSE YOU HAVE.
I placed my phone facedown.
For the first time, I understood that Derek's biggest mistake was not the vasectomy.
May you like
It was assuming I would be too heartbroken to start looking at dates.
