Chapter 2 - The Woman at Isabella’s Funeral
Simone did not go home after leaving the hospital.
She could not.
The idea of walking through the front door and seeing the unfinished nursery upstairs made her physically sick.
Her older sister, Natalie, drove her from the hospital to her house in Westbridge, forty minutes away.
The entire ride happened in silence.
Simone sat in the passenger seat wearing sweatpants Natalie had bought from the hospital gift shop and a coat that did not belong to her. Her body felt strangely hollow.
Every few minutes, her hand moved toward her stomach without permission.
Then she remembered.
There was nobody there anymore.
Natalie never told her to stop.
She simply drove.
For three days, Simone ignored David's calls.
He called thirty-seven times.
Then came the texts.
Please talk to me.
I know you hate me.
I hate myself too.
I didn't choose for this to happen.
Please don't make decisions while you're grieving.
That last message finally made Simone react.
She stared at the screen for nearly a minute before handing the phone to Natalie.
“Block him.”
Natalie looked at her carefully.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
She blocked his number.
Simone looked out the window.
“That was the first decision I've made in a week that felt easy.”
The funeral was held eight days after Isabella died.
There was no tiny coffin displayed at the front of the church.
Simone could not bear it.
Instead, there was a photograph of an ultrasound inside a silver frame beside a vase filled with white roses and yellow daisies.
Yellow had been the color Simone had chosen for the nursery.
She had refused pink because David once laughed and said their daughter would probably grow up hating pink.
That memory nearly made Simone leave the church before the service began.
Almost every memory had David inside it.
That was what betrayal did.
It poisoned backward.
It reached into moments that had once been beautiful and changed what they meant.
Reverend Thompson performed the service.
He did not mention the lake.
He spoke about Isabella as a life that mattered regardless of how long it lasted.
He spoke about a mother who had loved her daughter before ever seeing her face.
For the first time since the hospital, Simone cried openly.
Natalie sat beside her holding her hand.
Then the church doors opened.
Simone heard movement behind her.
Whispers.
Natalie's body became rigid.
Simone knew before she turned around.
David.
He stood near the entrance wearing the same black suit he had worn at his father's funeral three years earlier.
His face looked thinner.
Unshaven.
Destroyed.
For half a second, Simone remembered loving that face.
Then she remembered seeing it above the lake while his arm was around Rebecca.
David took one step inside.
Natalie stood immediately.
“No.”
David stopped.
“It's my daughter's funeral.”
Simone turned.
Every head in the church seemed to shift between them.
David looked directly at her.
“Simone.”
She had imagined this moment.
In some versions she screamed.
In others she slapped him.
In one particularly dark version she told everyone exactly what he had done.
But standing there beside Isabella's flowers, Simone felt something she had not expected.
Nothing.
Not forgiveness.
Not peace.
Just exhaustion.
“This service isn't about you,” she said quietly.
David swallowed.
“I know.”
“Then don't make it about you.”
“I need to say goodbye to my daughter.”
Something cracked inside Simone.
“You had your chance to protect her.”
The church went absolutely silent.
David's eyes closed.
“Please don't do this here.”
“You came here.”
“I loved Isabella.”
“Then stand outside.”
His face tightened.
“Simone—”
Reverend Thompson stepped between them.
Not aggressively.
He did not need to.
He was sixty-two years old with gray hair and a voice that could fill a church without being raised.
“She asked you to leave.”
David looked at him.
Recognition flashed across his face.
“You.”
“Yes.”
“You're the man who pulled her out.”
Reverend Thompson held David's stare.
“Yes.”
Something close to shame crossed David's face.
He walked outside.
But he did not leave.
Through the stained-glass window, Simone could see his shadow standing near the church steps throughout the entire service.
Afterward, she remained inside until most people had gone.
Natalie brought her water.
“You don't have to talk to him.”
“I know.”
“He may still be out there.”
“I know.”
Natalie hesitated.
“There's someone else outside too.”
Simone looked up.
“Who?”
Natalie's expression told her before she spoke.
“Rebecca.”
Simone's fingers tightened around the paper cup.
“No.”
“She asked if you'd see her.”
“No.”
“I already told her that.”
“Good.”
“But she said…” Natalie stopped.
“What?”
“She said she has something you need to see.”
Simone laughed bitterly.
“Of course she does.”
“You want me to make her leave?”
“Yes.”
Natalie turned.
“Wait.”
Natalie stopped.
Simone hated herself for what she said next.
“What does she have?”
“I don't know.”
Five minutes later, Rebecca entered through a side door.
She looked different.
At the lake, Simone had only seen her soaked, terrified, wrapped in David's arms.
Now she looked small.
Almost ordinary.
That somehow made Simone angrier.
Rebecca wore a plain black coat. No makeup. Her blond hair was tied behind her neck.
She stayed several feet away.
“I'm sorry about Isabella.”
Simone stared at her.
“Don't say her name.”
Rebecca's eyes dropped.
“Okay.”
“Why are you here?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“If it's that you slept with my husband, I'm aware.”
Rebecca flinched.
Natalie folded her arms.
Rebecca looked toward the empty church.
“David told me you knew.”
Simone actually laughed.
It sounded broken.
“He told you I knew he was still sleeping with you?”
“He said you were separated privately.”
“We shared a bedroom until last week.”
Rebecca went pale.
“He said you were staying together until after the baby was born because you didn't want stress during the pregnancy.”
“He lied.”
“I know that now.”
“Congratulations.”
“Simone—”
“No. You don't get to come here expecting me to make you feel better because you discovered the married man you were sleeping with was dishonest.”
Rebecca nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
That answer surprised Simone.
Rebecca reached into her handbag.
Natalie stepped forward.
“What are you doing?”
“It's just my phone.”
She unlocked it and opened a message thread.
“I didn't come because I expect forgiveness.”
“Then why?”
“Because David is lying about the lake.”
Simone stopped breathing.
Rebecca held out the phone.
Simone did not take it.
“What lie?”
“He keeps telling everyone I appeared there unexpectedly.”
Simone looked at her.
“Did you?”
“No.”
Something inside the room seemed to change temperature.
“He invited you?”
Rebecca nodded.
“He told me he needed to talk.”
“When?”
“That afternoon.”
“Why?”
“He said he had finally made a decision.”
Simone felt Natalie move closer.
“What decision?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“He never got to tell me.”
“Why was I there?”
“He told me you were coming later. He said you were meeting some friends at the restaurant across the lake.”
Simone remembered David suggesting the trip.
One night away.
No phones.
No arguments.
A chance to start repairing the marriage before Isabella came.
He had kissed Simone's forehead and said, Maybe we need to remember why we chose each other.
The cruelty of that memory nearly knocked her over.
“He invited both of us,” Simone whispered.
“Yes.”
“Did you know I would be there?”
“No.”
Rebecca's voice broke.
“When I saw you walking toward the dock, I realized he had lied to both of us.”
Simone remembered Rebecca's expression seconds before the dock collapsed.
Shock.
Not guilt.
At the time Simone had assumed she was afraid of being caught.
Maybe she had been.
But perhaps not for the reason Simone thought.
“What happened before I got there?”
Rebecca took a breath.
“We argued.”
“About?”
“I told him I was done waiting. I said if he wanted you, he needed to leave me alone. If he wanted me, he needed to stop lying.”
“And?”
“He said after that night everything would be different.”
Simone's skin prickled.
“What did that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No. I expect you not to believe anything without proof.”
Rebecca pulled a folded sheet of paper from her bag.
“This was printed from an email David forwarded to me when he sent directions to the cabin.”
Simone took it.
At first she saw only the property logo.
LAKE BRIAR RETREAT
Then the date.
The morning of the accident.
Then the subject line.
URGENT SAFETY NOTICE — EAST DOCK CLOSED
Simone's eyes moved down the page.
Mr. Carter,
As discussed by phone, the eastern dock must not be used until repairs are completed. A structural inspection identified multiple compromised supports beneath the outer section.
Please keep all guests away from the dock. Temporary warning chains have been installed.
Simone's hand began shaking.
At the bottom was David's response.
Two words.
Understood. Thanks.
Simone stared at the message until the letters blurred.
“No.”
Rebecca's voice was barely audible.
“I didn't know about the warning until yesterday.”
“The dock had a chain?”
“Yes.”
“I don't remember a chain.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“There wasn't one when you arrived.”
Simone slowly raised her eyes.
Rebecca's face had gone white.
“When I got there,” Rebecca continued, “the chain was across the entrance.”
Simone's heartbeat became deafening.
“What happened to it?”
May you like
Rebecca swallowed.
“David removed it.”
