Chapter 3 My Beat Friend's Smile

I had spent most of my life believing that fear announced itself through trembling hands and racing hearts. That night, standing in my kitchen with my husband's phone between my fingers, I discovered that real fear could make a person frighteningly calm. My father had been dead for five years, yet someone had just mentioned his death as though it were a warning.

"Isabella, I asked you a question." Adrian descended the remaining stairs, his expression hardening when I didn't respond. "Why are you holding my phone?"

I looked at him, searching for the man who had held me through countless sleepless nights after my father's funeral. Adrian had helped arrange the burial, handled the paperwork, and promised that he would take care of everything my father had left behind. Now, looking at his face, I wondered whether his kindness had concealed something terrible.

"It was ringing," I answered, surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "I thought it might be important."

Adrian approached me and held out his hand. I passed him the phone, watching his eyes move across the screen. For one brief moment, the color drained from his face before he turned the device facedown against his palm.

"Did you read anything?" he asked.

"Was I supposed to?"

His jaw tightened. "That's not what I asked, Isabella."

I forced myself to shrug. "I saw a notification, but I didn't open your messages. Since when do you interrogate me over touching your phone?"

My question appeared to remind him that he was supposed to be the affectionate husband who had brought me roses an hour earlier. He softened his expression and pulled me against his chest, although his embrace felt unusually tight.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I've been dealing with some sensitive business matters, and I can't afford information getting into the wrong hands." He kissed my forehead before adding, "You know I'd never hide anything important from you."

I nodded against his chest, wondering how many lies a person could tell while holding someone they claimed to love. When he finally released me, I told him I was tired and wanted to sleep. He offered to accompany me upstairs, but I insisted he finish his work first.

I waited until I heard his study door close before locking myself inside the bathroom. My reflection looked pale beneath the bright lights, and I gripped the sink to steady myself. I wanted to call someone, but the only person I would ordinarily trust with something this frightening was Vanessa.

The thought made me laugh bitterly.

By morning, I had barely slept. Adrian left before seven, claiming an urgent meeting required his attention. He kissed me goodbye and reminded me that his lawyer would be bringing some documents home the following evening. According to him, they concerned a routine restructuring of the company, and all he needed was my signature.

Under normal circumstances, I would have signed without hesitation.

This time, I smiled and promised to look at them.

At ten o'clock, my doorbell rang. I was halfway through a cup of coffee when the housekeeper announced that Vanessa had arrived. Before I could object, my best friend swept into the living room carrying two shopping bags and wearing the brightest smile I had ever seen.

"There's my favorite girl!" she exclaimed, dropping the bags onto the sofa. "You sounded terrible yesterday, so I brought breakfast. Don't tell me you've already eaten."

I watched her walk into my kitchen as though she owned the place. She wore fitted jeans, a cream blouse, and the diamond bracelet I'd given her for her thirtieth birthday. Everything about her was familiar, yet I struggled to understand how I had missed the dishonesty beneath that cheerful face.

"You didn't have to come," I said, following her.

"Nonsense. What kind of best friend would I be if I couldn't check on you?" She opened a container of pastries and pushed it toward me. "Besides, Adrian mentioned you've been stressed lately."

My stomach tightened. "When did Adrian tell you that?"

Vanessa's hand paused above the container. "Oh, you know how he is. He worries about you, and sometimes he asks me to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

I picked up a pastry without intending to eat it. "That's sweet of him. Did you speak yesterday?"

"Not yesterday, no." She reached for her coffee, avoiding my eyes. "I think it was earlier this week."

I studied her face as she spoke. She had always been a convincing liar when we were younger, especially when we sneaked out of our hostel after curfew. Back then, I considered it an amusing talent. Now, I wondered how many times she had used it against me.

"Vanessa, can I ask you something personal?"

"Of course, babe. You know you can ask me anything."

"That man you told me about at the lingerie boutique. Are you still seeing him?"

Her smile faltered. She quickly recovered, stirring her coffee even though she hadn't added any sugar. "Why are you suddenly interested in my love life?"

"Because you're my best friend, and you've been unusually secretive about him. I thought things were getting serious."

Vanessa laughed softly. "Complicated is more like it. He's involved with someone else, but he keeps promising things will change."

I felt something inside me fracture. She was sitting across from me, discussing her affair with my husband as though I were a stranger offering relationship advice.

"Doesn't that bother you?" I asked. "Knowing another woman is waiting at home for him?"

Vanessa studied me for a moment before answering. "Sometimes relationships end long before people admit it, Isabella. Maybe the woman he's with simply isn't making him happy anymore."

I lowered my eyes to my untouched breakfast. "And you think that makes it acceptable to sleep with someone else's husband?"

Her spoon struck the cup with a sharp sound. Before she could respond, her phone began ringing. She glanced at the screen and immediately turned it over.

I recognized the photograph that briefly illuminated the display.

It was Adrian.

Vanessa stood abruptly, claiming she needed to use the bathroom. I watched her disappear down the hallway, then noticed that she'd left one shopping bag open beside the sofa. Inside was a small velvet jewelry box bearing the name of Adrian's favorite jeweler.

I opened it.

Nestled against black satin was my mother's emerald pendant, the one my father had given me before he died. I had searched for it for months after Adrian claimed it was missing from our safe.

Beneath the necklace lay a folded receipt dated three days earlier.

The purchaser's name was Adrian Bennett.

But it was the handwritten note attached to the receipt that made my breath catch.

For Vanessa. As promised, once Isabella is out of the way, everything that belongs to her will be yours.

I was still staring at the words when Vanessa returned.

She stopped in the doorway, her eyes falling on the open jewelry box. The smile vanished from her face, and for the first time since I'd known her, my best friend looked genuinely terrified.

Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.

"Isabella, whatever you do, don't let Adrian know you've seen that necklace. His father killed yours over it."