Chapter 9 — Room 402

I had a contact from my old working life, someone who could help me confirm what the receipt implied without my having to guess.

I will not pretend it was anything but what it was: I wanted to see, with my own eyes, who my husband had taken to that hotel.

The footage told me.

At ten in the morning on a Thursday — a networking Thursday — I watched my husband walk into room 402, and I watched, a moment later, who followed him in.

It was Renata.