“Mrs. Carter… I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t even know how to explain this. I was reviewing the security footage and rewatching the day Ava got sick…” she started, her voice trembling.
My heart started pounding.
“Yes… and what did you see?”
Greenwood hesitated before clearing her throat.
“I’m going to send the security footage to your phone as soon as I copy it. Please watch it. I feel uncomfortable saying this, but… your husband is lying to you.”
My stomach twisted, and the room suddenly felt cold.
“I don’t even know how to explain this.”
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***
A few minutes later, the video arrived.
My hands shook as I opened the message and pressed play.
Initially, everything looked normal.
Mark helped Ava out of the car at the daycare while she held her stuffed rabbit against her chest.
Then a woman stepped into the frame. She was tall, brunette, and wearing a cream-colored coat.
She smiled at my daughter as if she already knew her.
I frowned immediately.
My hands shook as I opened the message.
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The woman crouched down and handed Ava a bottled drink with a café label on it. My daughter smiled and took it happily.
Then the woman touched Mark’s arm. Not casually, but intimately.
My stomach dropped.
They guided Ava inside before the footage continued.
My husband smiled before walking back to his car with the woman.
I rewound the clip and tried cropping the frame to zoom in. My phone nearly slipped out of my hands because I recognized her immediately.
Lauren.
Mark’s coworker!
Then the woman touched Mark’s arm.
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Lauren was the same woman I’d met once at my husband’s company Christmas party the previous year. The same woman whose name started appearing on his phone late at night, before he suddenly became protective of it.
The air left my lungs painfully.
Crying, I screamed, “Oh my God, what is happening?! What was she doing at Ava’s daycare? No… this can’t be true… I knew this wasn’t an accident!”
My hands shook as I replayed the footage.
The same woman I’d met once.
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Suddenly, every strange moment from the past several months came rushing back.
Late meetings.
Locked phones.
Business dinners that somehow lasted until midnight.
And one night, when I walked downstairs for water, I found Mark texting someone in the dark kitchen.
The second he saw me, he locked his screen.
“Who’s that?” I’d asked.
“Lauren from work,” he answered too fast. “Client issue.”
I’d trusted him. Now my whole body went cold.
“Who’s that?”
