Chapter 4 - The Devastating Phone Call
The investigation required patience, a virtue the military had thoroughly drilled into me. For two weeks, I lived with a ghost in my house. I cooked dinners, asked about Eric’s day, and slept on the far edge of the mattress, all while waiting for the truth to surface.
When Grant Miller finally called me, I was sitting in my living room, watching the rain beat against the windowpanes. His tone was professional, but there was a heavy, sympathetic pause before he spoke.
“Are you sitting down?” he asked quietly.
“I already am,” I replied, gripping the armrest of the sofa.
“Ma’am,” he said, his voice lowering, “the woman he is seeing... she is in your own family.”
My mind raced through a Rolodex of possibilities. I thought of a distant cousin who lived one town over. I thought of a newly divorced sister-in-law on Eric’s side. I tried to rationalize the betrayal by placing it as far away from my inner circle as possible. Never, not even for a single, fleeting second, did I imagine it would be my own flesh and blood. My baby sister.
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When Grant sent the encrypted file to my email, my hands trembled over the keyboard. I opened the first high-resolution photograph. The image was undeniable. It showed Eric and Natalie walking out of a boutique hotel in Brooklyn, his arm wrapped intimately around her waist.
The worst part wasn't just the betrayal; it was the visual mockery. In the photograph, Natalie was wearing the delicate silk blouse I had bought for her twenty-fifth birthday. The very shirt I had wrapped in silver paper and handed to her with a smile.
