That’s when I knew the truth would be worse than anything I had imagined.

“Not here?” I repeated, louder this time. A few people nearby turned to look. “You brought whatever this is to an airport, Ethan. So yes—here.”

The young woman looked like she might collapse. She clutched her purse to her chest and stepped farther away from him. “You told me you were divorced,” she said, her voice shaking. “You said the papers were being finalized.”

I laughed, but it came out sharp and bitter. “Divorced? That’s interesting, because I was at our house this morning packing his favorite travel pillow.”

Ethan dragged a hand down his face. “Claire, please. You’re making a scene.”

“No,” I said. “You made a scene the second you decided to be a husband to me and a future father to someone else.”

The girl whipped around to face him. “Future father?”

That’s when I realized she didn’t know everything either.

I looked at her, then at the envelope in her bag. “You really don’t know, do you?”

She swallowed hard. “Know what?”

Before Ethan could stop me, I reached for the paper sticking out of her purse. She tried to pull it back, but too late. The top page was enough. I saw her name—Madison Reed. I saw his name—Ethan Cole. I saw the clinic letterhead and the words treatment plan, embryo transfer, and intended parents.

My hands began to shake.

Madison covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”

I looked at Ethan. “You used our joint savings.”

He didn’t deny it.

The answer was written all over his face, and suddenly I was back in our kitchen six months earlier, asking why thirty thousand dollars had been withdrawn from our account. He had told me it was a business investment. He had kissed my forehead and told me not to worry. I remembered crying alone in our bedroom after another failed conversation about why he kept postponing IVF for us, even though he knew how badly I wanted children.

All that time, he hadn’t been hesitating.

He had just chosen someone else.

Madison’s voice cracked beside me. “You told me you were starting over. You said your marriage ended because she didn’t want kids.”

I closed my eyes for one painful second. Then I looked at her again, really looked at her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-six. Stylish, nervous, mascara already smudging beneath her eyes. She didn’t look smug anymore. She looked devastated.

Ethan stepped toward us, lowering his voice. “Both of you need to calm down. We can talk privately.”

I stepped back. “Do not position yourself like you’re managing a meeting.”

Madison’s eyes filled with tears. “Were you ever going to tell me the truth?”

He said nothing.

That silence told us everything.

Then she reached into her purse, pulled out the ring he had given her, and dropped it into his palm.

“You used me,” she whispered.

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