Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY ENEMY
"Your husband told me you agreed to raise my baby."
Sophia Weber's voice was barely above a whisper.
I sat motionless in the coffee shop, watching a waitress wipe down the table beside mine.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
"Excuse me?"
"He said you knew about us. He said you couldn't have children, and that you wanted to adopt mine."
My hand tightened around my coffee cup.
Ten years of marriage.
Six years of fertility treatments.
And somehow, Lukas had managed to turn my greatest heartbreak into a story that made him look generous.
"Sophia," I said carefully, "where did you hear that?"
"From Lukas. And his mother."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Ingrid Vance never did anything halfway.
"How long have you been seeing my husband?"
Sophia hesitated.
"Since January."
It was September.
Eight months.
Eight months of sharing my bed, kissing me goodbye, and promising that our marriage was the most important thing in his life.
"Did you know he was married?"
"Yes."
At least she didn't insult me with another lie.
"Then why are you calling?"
Sophia's breathing became uneven.
"Because something happened yesterday, and I don't think you know what they're planning."
I looked down at the notebook in front of me.
"What happened?"
"Ingrid came to my apartment. She brought baby clothes, a silver bracelet, and some papers."
"What kind of papers?"
"An agreement. She said it would be easier if I signed before the baby arrived."
"What agreement?"
Sophia's voice cracked.
"She wanted me to give up my parental rights."
I stared through the window at the Chicago traffic.
A delivery truck stopped at the light. A man hurried past carrying flowers.
The world continued moving while mine seemed to freeze.
"Did you sign?"
"No."
For the first time since answering the call, I felt something other than anger.
Relief.
"Why not?"
"Because I'm keeping my baby, Evelyn."
The words came out stronger this time.
"I made a terrible mistake with Lukas. I know that. But I'm not giving my child away to make his marriage convenient."
I sat back.
This wasn't the conversation I had expected.
I had imagined a smug woman telling me she had won.
Instead, Sophia sounded frightened.
"Does Lukas know you refused?"
"Yes. He told me I was being emotional and that we'd discuss it when I calmed down."
"That sounds like him."
Sophia let out a humorless laugh.
"His mother was worse."
I waited.
"She told me that if I wasn't willing to cooperate, they would have to reconsider my financial support."
My eyes dropped to the $5,000 transfer in my notebook.
"What financial support?"
"Lukas has been paying my rent and medical expenses."
"How much?"
"Five thousand dollars to start. Then monthly transfers."
The number hit me immediately.
Five thousand.
Our joint savings.
The money Lukas had called a temporary investment.
I had paid for his affair without knowing it.
"Sophia, where did the first payment come from?"
"I don't know. He said he handled the money."
I swallowed hard.
"Did he ever mention our fertility treatments?"
A long silence followed.
Then Sophia said, "He told me you stopped trying last year."
My throat tightened.
Three weeks earlier, Lukas had sat across from me at an expensive restaurant, holding my hand over candlelight.
He had promised we could try IVF again.
He had even suggested booking another consultation.
"He lied," I whispered.
"I was afraid of that."
I wanted to hang up.
I wanted to throw my phone against the wall.
Instead, I asked the question that mattered.
"Why tell me now?"
Sophia hesitated again.
"Because Ingrid said something in German yesterday. She thought I was in the bathroom."
My pulse quickened.
"Do you speak German?"
"Enough. My grandmother taught me."
Of course she did.
For one ridiculous second, I almost laughed.
Apparently Lukas had surrounded himself with women who understood his family's language and decided none of us were smart enough to use it.
"What did Ingrid say?"
Sophia lowered her voice.
"She said they needed to settle the house before you became difficult."
I went completely still.
"Our house?"
"Yes."
The house in Lincoln Park.
The three-story brick home Lukas and I had purchased six years earlier.
I had contributed most of the down payment after receiving money from my late grandmother.
The mortgage payments came primarily from my salary.
Lukas loved telling people we had bought it together.
He rarely mentioned that I had provided nearly seventy percent of the money.
"What exactly did she say?"
Sophia repeated the German sentence.
I understood every word.
Once the house is secured, Evelyn won't have any real choices left.
A cold feeling moved through my stomach.
This wasn't simply about a baby.
They were planning something involving our home.
"Sophia, I need to ask you something. Has Lukas mentioned refinancing?"
"He said he was arranging a business loan."
My mind raced.
Two weeks earlier, Lukas had asked whether I would consider refinancing our mortgage.
He claimed interest rates might improve.
I had told him I wanted to review the numbers.
He'd become irritated.
"Sometimes," he'd said, "you make everything complicated because you work in finance."
I had laughed it off.
Now I remembered the folder he'd placed on our kitchen counter.
Blue.
With a white bank logo.
"Did he say what the loan was for?"
"An investment property. Or maybe a business. He changes the explanation."
I closed my notebook.
"Sophia, I think we should meet."
"I'm afraid Lukas will find out."
"So am I."
There was another pause.
Then she said, "There's a bakery on Clark Street. Near the old bookstore."
"I know it."
"Eleven tomorrow?"
"I'll be there."
Before hanging up, Sophia said something unexpected.
"Evelyn?"
"Yes?"
"I'm sorry."
I stared at my reflection in the coffee shop window.
For months, I had imagined the woman who might steal my husband.
I never imagined she would be the first person to tell me the truth.
"Being sorry doesn't change what happened," I said.
"I know."
"But calling me was the right thing."
After we disconnected, I sat quietly.
Then I opened our shared banking application.
The $5,000 transfer was still there.
I scrolled farther back.
Three payments of $1,200.
Two of $850.
One for $2,400.
All labeled with vague descriptions.
Consulting.
Travel reimbursement.
Vendor payment.
I photographed the entries and downloaded the statements.
Then I called our bank.
After verifying my identity, I asked whether there were any pending requests involving our mortgage.
The representative typed for several seconds.
"Mrs. Vance, I can see an inquiry initiated last Thursday."
"An inquiry for what?"
"A home equity line of credit."
My mouth went dry.
"How much?"
"Two hundred and forty thousand dollars."
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
"I didn't authorize that."
"It hasn't been approved, ma'am. Both owners would need to complete the required authorization."
"Can you put a note on the account that I haven't consented?"
"Certainly. You may also want to visit a branch to discuss additional protections."
I thanked her and hung up.
Then I remembered something else.
Lukas had asked me to sign a stack of insurance paperwork before our anniversary dinner.
I'd told him I wanted to read it first.
He'd smiled and called me his little accountant.
That evening, when I got home, I found the blue folder in his study.
Inside were mortgage estimates, valuation reports, and a business proposal.
On the final page, beneath a photograph of a newly renovated building, was a company name I had never seen before.
WEBER FAMILY HOLDINGS LLC.
And beneath it were three proposed members.
Lukas Vance.
Ingrid Vance.
Sophia Weber.
But that wasn't what made my hands start shaking.
Clipped to the back was a document titled:
PRELIMINARY MARITAL PROPERTY SETTLEMENT.
My name was printed on the first line.
May you like
The signature beneath it looked almost exactly like mine.
And I had never signed it.
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