Judge sat up on the edge of the bed, wheezing slightly. He looked at Kelsie with shock, and then, slowly, anger.

"What the hell was that?" he rasped.

"Get out," Kelsie said, pointing at the door. She backed into the corner of the room, putting the armchair between them.

He stood up, straightening his uniform. He wiped his mouth, checking for blood. "Five minutes ago you were enjoying that."

"That was a physiological response," Kelsie spat. "That wasn't love. That was you manipulating me."

"I was trying to give you what you wanted!" he yelled, throwing his hands up. "You've been nagging me for a baby for years!"

"Don't you dare," Kelsie said, her voice low and dangerous. "Don't you dare act like this is a gift. You're scared. You're scared because I saw that text. You're trying to trap me."

"I am not trying to trap you!"

"Then tell me who she is!" Kelsie screamed. "Tell me who 'A' is! Right now! Unlock your phone and show me the messages!"

Judge went still. The air in the room grew heavy. He looked at Kelsie, his face closing down like a shutter.

"I can't," he said calmly. "It's a violation of privacy. It's police business."

"Bullshit!" Kelsie threw a pillow at him. It hit his chest harmlessly and fell to the floor. "HIPAA doesn't apply to you! You're a cop, not a doctor! Since when do witnesses text the Captain of the precinct about their pain at nine p.m.?"

"Since the witness is under extreme duress," he said, reciting the line like a script. "She's in a protection program. I can't compromise that."

Kelsie laughed. It was a hysterical, broken sound. "You expect me to believe that? You think I'm stupid?"

"I think you're paranoid," he said coldly. "I think you're letting your insecurities ruin our marriage."

The gaslighting was so blatant it was almost impressive.

"If I'm so paranoid," Kelsie said, "then divorce me. Let me go."

His eyes flashed. "Don't say that word."

"Divorce," Kelsie said clearly. "Divorce. Divorce."

He stepped toward her, his finger raised. "Stop it."

"Give me my phone," Kelsie said.

He stared at her for a long moment, his chest heaving. Then, he reached into his pocket. He pulled out her phone and her wallet, tossing them both onto the mattress. They bounced once.

"Sleep here," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Don't leave this room. We have dinner with Kara tomorrow. You will be there, and you will act like my wife."

He turned and walked out. He slammed the door so hard the frame rattled.

Kelsie slid down the wall until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest.

She didn't cry. She was done crying. She felt... hollow. Scraped clean.

She reached for her phone and turned it on. It buzzed with missed calls and texts from Kia.

I'm okay, she texted Kia. Pick me up in the morning.

Kelsie sat there in the dark, listening to the house.

The silence was absolute, a heavy blanket. The master bedroom was just across the hall. She crept to the guest room door, her heart pounding, and pressed her ear against the cool wood. His door must have been left ajar.

She held her breath.

Judge's voice came through, muffled but audible. The tone was different. It wasn't the cold, commanding bark he used with her. It wasn't the angry shout.

It was soft. Gentle. Almost pleading.

"I'm here," he was saying. "I know... I know it hurts... breathe... I'm coming to see you tomorrow... I promise... you're safe..."

Kelsie closed her eyes.

He wasn't talking to a witness. You didn't promise a witness you were coming to see them with that kind of tenderness.

He was talking to her. To A.

And in that moment, listening to her husband comfort another woman through a few inches of wood and drywall, Kelsie's heart finally, quietly, broke.

Kelsie woke up on the floor the next day.

She stood up and moved mechanically. Bathroom. Brush teeth. Wash face. She avoided looking in the mirror. She didn't want to see the dark circles or the hollowness in her cheeks.

She changed into jeans and a sweater-the clothes she had packed the night before. She grabbed her suitcase.

The hallway was quiet. The door to the master bedroom was closed.

She went downstairs. The kitchen was empty.

On the granite island, there was a notepad. A single sheet of paper with Judge's sharp, angular handwriting.

Go buy something nice for dinner. Be home by 6.

Next to the note was his black Amex card. The heavy metal kind.

Kelsie picked it up. It felt cold and heavy in her hand. He thought this was the apology. He thought money and a command could fix the cracks in the foundation.

She walked to the trash compactor. She slid the heavy metal card into the slot. She pressed the button. The machine whirred to life with a low growl that escalated into a violent, satisfying crunch as the titanium was mangled beyond recognition. She threw the note in after it.

She walked out the front door. The morning air was crisp.

Kia's red car was idling at the curb, just outside the gate. Kelsie must have walked the quarter mile without even realizing it.

She got in. Kia handed her a coffee without a word.

"He didn't stop you?" Kia asked as they pulled away.

"He's asleep. Or pretending to be."

"What did he do?"

"He tried to get me pregnant," Kelsie said, staring at the steam rising from the cup. "Then I heard him on the phone with her."

Kia slammed her hand against the steering wheel. "That asshole! Did you hear a name?"

"No. Just the tone. He loves her, Kia. Whoever she is, he loves her."

Kelsie pulled out her phone. "But I have something."

"What?"

"Last night, when I saw the text... I saw the number. It's stuck in my head. The number."

"Give it to me," Kia said.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at Kia's apartment. Her boyfriend, Zane, took one look at Kelsie's face and quietly took his gaming headset off, vacating the desk chair.

"It's all yours," he mumbled, disappearing into the bedroom.

Kia sat at the computer. She cracked her knuckles. "Okay. Let's find this bitch."

She opened a browser and went to a paid background check site. She typed in the number Kelsie recited. "Area code 617... ending in 8829."

The search bar spun. Kelsie's heart hammered in her throat.

"Got it," Kia said.

A profile popped up.

Name: Angelique McCall

Age: 26

Address: 42 Oak Creek Lane, Boston, MA

A photo loaded.

It was a driver's license photo, but even the harsh lighting couldn't hide her beauty. Pale skin, large, watery blue eyes, fragile features. She looked like a porcelain doll that would shatter if you touched it.

Kelsie stared at the screen. The room tilted.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

"You know her?" Kia asked.

"I know her," Kelsie said, her voice trembling, the words tasting like ash. "That's Angelique. His stepsister. He always showed me pictures of her when she was a little girl... sick in a hospital bed. "

"Stepsister?" Kia screeched. She spun the chair around. "Like... Clueless stepsister? Or Flowers in the Attic stepsister?"

"Legally, no blood," Kelsie said, her eyes glued to Angelique's face on the screen. "Judge's dad married her mom when Judge was sixteen. She was... eight, I think?"

"That is still weird, Kelsie. That is super weird."

"He always told me she was sick," Kelsie murmured. "Autoimmune issues. Trauma. He said she was fragile. That taking care of her was a 'family obligation'."

She reached for the mouse. Her hand was shaking. "Let me see."

Kelsie opened a new tab and logged into Facebook. Judge didn't use social media, but his family did. She went to his Aunt Lydia's page. She scrolled back years.

She found an album titled Thanksgiving 2018.

Kelsie clicked through. There.

A photo of Judge and Angelique sitting on a porch swing. Judge was leaning in, holding a blanket around her shoulders. He was looking at her with an expression Kelsie had never seen directed at her. It wasn't just protective. It was... reverent. Like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

In another photo, he was feeding her something-maybe medicine, maybe food. His hand was cupping her jaw.

"Look at that," Kia whispered, pointing at the screen. "Look at his eyes."

"I see it," Kelsie said.

"That's not 'big brother'," Kia said. "That's 'soulmate'."

Kelsie felt like she was going to throw up.

"He has her saved as 'A'," Kelsie said. "He hides her texts. He runs to her when she's in pain. He prioritizes her over me."

"And he gaslights you into thinking you're crazy for being jealous of his 'sister'," Kia finished. "This is sick, Kelsie. This is emotional incest."

Kelsie stood up, pacing the small room. "I need to know for sure. I need to know how deep this goes."

"You have the evidence right there."

"I need to hear it," Kelsie said. "From someone who knows."

Her phone rang. It was Judge.

Kelsie stared at the screen. Hubby. She should change that name.

She let it ring.

It went to voicemail. A moment later, a notification popped up.

Kelsie played the message on speaker.

"Kelsie. Where are you? The card isn't working. Did you cancel it? Call me back. Kara expects us at seven."

His voice was clipped. Annoyed. Not worried. Just managing his assets. Managing his reputation.

"I'm going to Aunt Lydia's," Kelsie said, grabbing her purse.

"The old lady?" Kia asked.

"She knows everything. She's the family historian. And she hates secrets almost as much as she loves gin."

"I'm coming with you."

"No," Kelsie said. "I need to do this alone. I need to drive."

"Take my car," Kia said, tossing Kelsie the keys. "Be careful."