2:01.
Still nothing.
Then at 2:02, the door opened.
A woman walked in, and every part of me went cold.
“No.”
I knew her. She was older now and had a different haircut, but it was definitely the woman I remembered.
Barbara.
I knew her.
Years ago, I had asked Mark about her after seeing texts that felt too familiar, too easy.
He had laughed, kissed my forehead, and said, “She’s just like that, Di. Look at the actual messages — it’s all work stuff. You’re overthinking it.”
She walked to the bed. A second later, Eleanor entered behind her.
Barbara took Mark’s hand. Held it.
“It’s me,” she said.
Then Mark’s fingers moved.
Barbara took Mark’s hand.
He squeezed back.
I stopped breathing.
Barbara leaned in. “I was so scared, Mark. Don’t you ever do that to me again.”
Eleanor moved to the other side of the bed. “Looks like Diane finally listened to me and went home. All it took was threatening to call security.”
Mark opened his eyes.
“No. She could be back any second. Did you move it?” he asked.
I stumbled back so fast I hit the wall.
“She could come back any second.”
Barbara nodded. “Most of it. There’s just one account left.”
Eleanor said, “Diane hasn’t checked anything.”
Mark let out a breath. “Good. We just need a little more time.”
My hand flew to my mouth.
“What if she finds out?” Barbara asked.
“She won’t,” Mark said. “Not yet. Not before it’s too late for her to do anything about it.”
Eleanor’s voice came next, smooth as oil. “Just keep her focused on you. That’s been working so far.”
“Good. We just need a little more time.”
Something inside me split right open.
Mark and I had been married for 33 years. We had five children.
We’d built a life together, and he was lying in a hospital bed pretending to be unconscious while he planned around me.
I don’t remember deciding to move. One second I was in that office, and the next I was back in the hallway with my phone in my hand and my body running on something colder than anger.
I opened the voice memo app and hit record.
Then I burst back into Room 402.
I opened the voice memo app and hit record.
Barbara jerked away from the bed.
Eleanor turned. “Oh. You’re back.” She looked at Barbara with fake brightness. “You remember Barbara, right? Mark’s old colleague—”
“Who’s visiting him at 2 a.m.? Don’t even bother, Eleanor.” I walked straight to the bed and stared at my husband’s face.
His eyes were closed again. He had resumed the performance.
“Stop the act,” I said. “I know you’ve been lying to me.”
Eleanor’s shoulders went rigid. “What are you implying?”
He had resumed the performance.
I didn’t look at her. “I’m saying he can open his eyes now.”
Nothing.
“And then he’s going to tell me what he’s been moving, where he’s been moving it, and why.”
Eleanor snapped, “Diane, don’t do this—”
I turned to her so fast she actually flinched. “Oh, I’m doing it.”
Mark stayed still.
“Fine. I’ll just call my lawyer and have him look into it.”
That did it.
“Diane, don’t do this—”
His eyes opened.
At the same moment, a nurse entered with a clipboard, saw the room, and froze where she stood.
Mark blinked against the light like he was the one overwhelmed here. “Diane—”
“No.” I lifted a hand. “You do not get to ease into this. Say it out loud: You’re awake. You’ve been awake. You’ve been lying.”
He glanced at Eleanor.
“Don’t look at her. You answer me.”
He glanced at Eleanor.
Barbara had gone pale. Eleanor looked furious. The nurse by the door did not move.
“What were you moving?” I asked. “And don’t insult me by pretending I didn’t hear you.”
Mark swallowed. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really? Because it sounds like you’ve been moving money, and I guess that it’s because you’ve been having an affair with her.” I pointed at Barbara.
He dragged a hand weakly over his face. “I was going to tell you.”
“After you moved everything?”
“Don’t insult me by pretending I didn’t hear you.”
Mark exhaled, frustrated now, like I was making this messy.
“Is that where you were that night? It was past midnight when you had the accident… Were you with her?”
He kept looking at me, but said nothing. That silence was answer enough.
“How long?”
Still nothing.
I looked at Barbara. “How long?”
“Is that where you were that night?”
Her mouth opened, then closed.
“So, years, I’m guessing. Since you worked together.”
No one corrected me.
I turned to Eleanor. “And you knew.”
She lifted her chin. “I was protecting my son.”
“You were helping him lie to me.”
“I was helping him do what needed to be done.”
“I was protecting my son.”
“Enough of this,” Mark snapped. “Yes, I was with Barbara that night, and yes, we have been in love for a long time. I’m going to divorce you, okay? I’ve already spoken to a lawyer. I just needed time to prepare.”