For three days, I searched the house and called Chloe until my throat hurt. No one answered.
On the fourth day, I overturned the decorative trash can in her sitting room. Amidst crumpled tissues and receipts, something glinted. A burner phone.
My tech team unlocked it within an hour. I sat in the darkened study and opened her messages.
An unknown number had sent them all.
The photo of my back in the hotel shower, sent on our anniversary night. *He says your bed is always so cold.*
The positive pregnancy test. *I'm giving him the one thing a pretty vase never could. A legacy.* Sent the morning after I had given Chloe the ruby necklace.
A selfie of Maya wearing the emerald necklace. *He says it brings out the green in my eyes.* Sent during the gala, probably while I was on stage.
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