I let Chloe and Beatrice make thinly veiled jokes about how lucky I was that Daniel had stayed committed to someone with such a “plain, unadventurous personality.”

I watched, eagle-eyed, as Vanessa shifted her chair. I saw her slip her foot out of her designer heel. I watched the slight jerk of Daniel’s shoulder as her bare foot slid up his calf under the table.

They exchanged a fleeting, secret smile, entirely convinced they were the smartest people in the room, playing a thrilling game right under the nose of the idiot wife and the oblivious father.

The tension in my chest was gone, replaced by a cold, thrilling adrenaline.

Finally the plates were pushed away. The wine bottles stood nearly empty.

Richard leaned back in his armchair, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He patted his stomach and fixed his gaze on me, his expression shifting from jovial to stern.