BECKY
　　She was finally going home to Texas to be with her family.
　　A month without Zach, Chloë, and Cass was too much to endure.
　　There was a small gathering of hardcore fans at the airport when she landed, and she actually paused to answer a few questions and sign a handful of autographs. But when they brought up her mystery man, she laughed and said, “No comment,” waving them goodbye as she climbed into a limo that took her straight home like a sleek missile.
　　Nobody followed. Thank goodness her house still served its intended role—a bulletproof fortress of privacy.
　　The kids ran outside and greeted her with hugs, happy to have her home. Cass poked her head out the door, looking frazzled, called a warm hello, and disappeared.
　　After spending a few minutes catching up with the twins, Becky made her way inside. The kids headed to their respective rooms, ostensibly to do homework, though Becky suspected Chloë was off to call her bestie, and Zach was bound for an online tournament in his favorite fighting video game.
　　Curious, Becky left her bag in the foyer and went in search of Cass. She was in the study, seated at the table with hundreds of envelopes in varying shapes and thicknesses spread out in piles, their organization system inscrutable, yet no doubt perfectly logical.
　　“Hey,” Cass said, barely looking up. “News about your mystery man has, um, we’ll say, increased your fan mail a touch.
　　Becky whistled. “Haven’t they heard of the Internet?”
　　“You have some old souls for fans.” Chuckling, Cass grabbed a stack of letters.
　　“I’ll read them myself.”
　　“You sure?” Cass asked.
　　“Yeah. I need it.”
　　“Okay.” Cass handed her one of the tallest stacks.
　　Becky went to her room and put the letters on her nightstand to deal with later.
　　One week was all she had to spend with the twins before heading back to Vancouver.
　　That evening, she shared a lovely meal with her children, after which they all skyped with Jack before bed.
　　She was beat when she climbed between her sheets. But her gaze snagged on the fan mail onher nightstand.
　　She opened the first two letters. Both elicited a warm smile from her, praising her latest novel and expressing excitement for the newest adaptation.
　　The third envelope was thick, and she flipped it over. No return address.
　　Taking a deep breath, she opened it.
　　A stack of printed photographs spilled onto her lap.
　　Her heart stopped. Her lungs felt tight. Tears blurred her vision. And her breath caughtin her throat as she stared unbelievingly at the happy trio in the photo. The man was smiling, one arm draped across the shoulders of a pretty brunette, an adorable baby cradled in the other.
　　The man in the photo was Jack.
　　Her eyes scanned the letter.
　　It was signed by his wife, Mary Jane Priestley. His wife?
　　This couldn’t be happening.
　　Try as she might to take in a deep breath, the much needed air refused to fill her lungs.
　　The letter accused her of ruining their family. Words as sharp as razor blades—like lowlifeand bitch—leapt off the ivory stationery at her, though the meat of the messageescaped her shell-shocked brain.
　　She read it again, slowly, her lips forming the words without voicing them out loud. Shedid this with every novel when her publishers sent her a galley proof after numerous rounds of edits. The first and second read of this short missive were lost on her muddled brain.
　　Jack’s wife was certain that he was still in love with her. She warned Rebecca to keep her filthy paws off her husband. She swore she would never divorce him. Their child needed her father, she insisted, and drove home her point home by emphasizing it in capital letters.
　　How could Becky argue with that?
　　The fourth read was silent. No lip reading. No scanning, either. Just the emotion, one woman to another.
　　Sobs tore out of Rebecca, her lungs still rejecting the intake of air. How was this happening? She couldn’t believe she was ruining a marriage.
　　Shewas the ‘other woman’.
　　Footsteps approached, small but urgent. Cass entered without knocking. Her face was onebig question mark—she’d heard the sobbing—but then she took in the scene, the open envelope, the photos scattered across the bedspread.
　　Without a word, she rushed over and picked the photos up, fanning them out like poker cards in one hand, disgust spreading across her face as she thumbed through them.
　　Done with the photos, she read the letter, her eyes racing across it. Her mouth hung open. “That fucking asshole.” She dropped everything to the floor and climbed onto Becky’s bed.
　　Becky’s phone rang. When she saw it was Jack, she threw her phone against the wall in anger.
　　He thought she was stupid, that he could get away with conning her.
　　His flaw had just been revealed.
　　How’s that for a flaw?A voice rose from the darkest, worst part of herself, a side she only accessed to crawl into the heads of her books’ villains. Readers adored her villains, claiming they felt real.
　　Well.
　　She’d been waiting for a character flaw to surface in the too-good-to-be-true-Jack, but nothing like this.
　　He already had a family. Suddenly, everything began to fall into place. This was why he didn’t want her to meet his parents, why he was so meticulous about keeping their relationship private.
　　Her body shook with sobs, tears streaming down her face in what resembled rivers.
　　“I’m so sorry, Becks.”
　　“Just leave me alone, please. And take those with you.” She shoved the fan mail at Cass.
　　Collecting the letters and envelopes hurriedly, Cass got up from the bed, only to bend over so she could pick up the photos from the floor. Righting herself, she faced Becky and mumbled, “I’ll let the others know. Mervyn…”
　　“Will tell me he told me so.”
　　“He never does, Becks. None of us saw this coming. I’m truly sorry.”
　　A nod was all she was capable of.
　　“You want me to wipe your numbers and Skype account?”
　　Again, just a nod for confirmation.
　　Turning, Cass walked out of her room.
　　She never wanted to see or speak to Jack Priestley ever again. She would never again believe a single word out of his mouth. She wouldn’t humiliate herself any further. Thepress would do enough of that for her if they discovered the truth.
　　He’d lied to her and turned her into a slut for cheating on his wife
　　How hadn’t she known?
　　Because the asshole had played her.
　　Her thoughts turned to the twins. They would be devastated. She got out of bed and ran toCass, who happened to be on the phone with Mona—shrieks could be heard from the other end of the line.
　　“Mona, hold on a moment.”
　　“The kids”—Rebecca sucked in air, her body shuddering—“they can never know.”
　　“Honey, they are going to hate you.”
　　“I’m used to that, but please, don’t tell them the reason. They will hate me more for having introduced them to a fucking monster like that.”
　　Cass hugged her again.
　　“Okay, Mona, I’ll talk you later. Don’t confront him. Rebecca’s orders. Ignore his calls, block his emails. He knows what he did. Speak to you soon.”
　　She took Becky back to bed, and once she’d settled her, handed her a Valium.
　　“We’ll sort it out.”
　　“I don’t want to hear excuses, Cass.”
　　“I know. A full delete. He doesn’t deserve an explanation.”
　　It took over fifteen minutes for the Valium to start the first stage of its intended use, in which time Becky’s brain played over the turmoil she found herself in, but eventually, physically and mentally exhausted, she drifted away.
　　JACK
　　He called Cass after his call to Becky failed to go through. But when she didn’t answer, either, he started to worry.
　　Mervyn’s number was next. He picked up after two rings.
　　“I’ll find out what’s going on, Jack. Calm down. I’ll speak to you soon.”
　　Jack waited all evening, but Mervyn never returned his call.
　　Again, he tried calling Rebecca, but it went straight to voicemail.
　　If something had happened to her…
　　Desperate, he called Zach’s number and then Chloë’s, which he’d gotten from them during their getaway. Every attempt went straight to voicemail.
　　What the fuck was going on?
　　He tried Mona’s; it rang and rang.
　　Text message after text message was sent, but all were undelivered.
　　His phone finally rang, and he fumbled to answer, his heart in his throat—but it was just Adrian.
　　He lost it. Without warning, he started flinging incoherent anxieties and worst-case-scenarios at his brother.
　　“Calm down, Jack. I’m sure it’s nothing sinister.” His voice was forcefully calm, as if he could will Jack to chill through the power of suggestion. “You spoke to her earlier, right?”
　　“But what if something happened, Adrian? I can’t lose them like that.”
　　“You won’t. Go to bed and deal with it in the morning.”
　　Reluctantly, he agreed.
　　Attempting sleep was out of the question. In desperation, he thought of calling his mother. But he couldn’t, not without coming clean about who he was dating.
　　When his alarm went off, he sat upright and switched it off. He grabbed his phone. No calls. No texts. None of his outbound messages had gone through.
　　He tried skyping her, but her handle didn’t exist anymore. Her name had just vanished off his contacts. The kids’ had, too.
　　What the fuck was going on?
　　She couldn’t be doing this to him. Everything had been fine when they’d spoken yesterday.
　　Again, he tried to call Mervyn, but according to the robot voice on the other end of the line, the number did not exist. The same happened with Mona’s and Cass’.
　　Was that the Twilight Zonetheme song he heard in the distance?
　　His chest constricted, and he struggled to take a breath.
　　His phone rang. Adrian again.
　　“Dude, fucking talk to me, you are freaking me out,” his twin said in a hushed voice, likely trying not to wake Anna.
　　“I don’t know what’s going on,” Jack said. “It’s like she was a figment of my imagination. None of the numbers exist anymore, Adrian. None. I’m not crazy.”
　　“I know. Damn it, Jack.”
　　“What do I do? I don’t even know where to fucking start. I don’t know where she lives.”
　　“First, calm down. We’ll find her. You said she has an agent. Track him down and beat the truth out of him if you must. As easy as that.”
　　“Okay. Yeah, okay.” His head cleared a bit as his brother talked him down.
　　He watched the news, knowing that if some tragedy had befallen her, it would be every channels’ headline. Nothing.
　　Why would she just cut him out of her life without any explanation?
　　He flew to Vancouver and waited outside the set, but she never turned up. At one point, he overheard a group of people gossiping about Rebecca. The rumor was that she was reneging on her duties as an executive producer due to a nervous breakdown.
　　Hearing that made him lose his temper. He punched one of the guards. Security had to restrain him until the cops arrived and locked him up. His lawyer flew up to bail him out, and he got a stern talking-to from his mother when he returned home.
　　He was like a bear with a sore tooth.
　　No trace of Mervyn or Mona could be found. It was like they had just vanished.
　　He took to lurking in front of Mervyn’s office building for a few hours every afternoon. And at last, his dogged persistence paid off. He got lucky one day when he saw Mervyn walking into the building.
　　Jack ran up the stairs and caught him just as he entered the elevator.
　　He slid in after him. Mervyn’s face went from relaxed to hostile in no time flat when herealized who was occupying the elevator with him.
　　“What the fuck is going on?” Jack demanded of Mervyn. “You said you were going to call me back.”
　　“Get the hell out of my face, Jack, or I will get security.” Mervyn kicked a foot out, keeping the doors open.
　　“Mervyn, please. Just tell me what’s going on.”
　　“Security!”
　　“Mervyn, just talk to me. Why the fuck is she doing this?”
　　“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Jack. She discovered your flaw. Did you think she was that stupid?”
　　“My what?” he asked, confused.
　　Mervyn poked his head out of the doors. “Please escort this asshole off the premises. Immediately.”
　　“Please!” Jack yelled as three security guards removed him.
　　Mervyn watched him go.
　　“Please,” he begged.
　　“Mary Jane, Jack.”
　　The words were so unexpected, the power behind them deflated him. In a bewildered fugue,he allowed himself to be escorted from the building without further struggle.
　　He didn’t even care that the guards were rough with him; his mind was too crowded with thoughts.
　　What did MJ have to do with any of this? Had MJ said something to Rebecca? Who else would Mervyn be referencing?
　　He drove like a demon to MJ’s place and practically pounded the door down once he got there, but she wasn’t home.
　　He would kill her. He would fucking kill her if she was behind this. Whatever it was, it must have been shattering to make Rebecca react this way.
　　He called his brother, and before Adrian could get a word in, he yelled, “MJ has something to do with this. I should have seen it coming. She handled our breakup too well.”
　　“Speculation or fact?”
　　“A fucking fact. I just saw Rebecca’s agent and the way he looked at me…screamed puredisgust, Adrian. What on earth could MJ have told her that would make him treat me like that?”
　　“Well, you did say the guy didn’t like you.”
　　“He’s an asshole, but it was never pure hostility. But now, now he hates my fucking guts, like I’m the scum of the earth. Fuck, I need to talk to her and I can’t. You know how frustrating that is?”
　　“I can imagine. She is well guarded and not just by invisible walls, Jack. Keep sendingher those emails.”
　　“Two are undeliverable. There’s only one email that doesn’t bounce back, but I’m not getting any reply or read receipts back. Not one. But that doesn’t surprise me, as one can bypass those.”
　　“Just keep trying, Jack. You can’t give up.”
　　“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Adrian.”
　　Adrian paused a beat. “You want her?”
　　“What kind of fucking question is that?”
　　“My point exactly. Don’t give up, Jack. Keep trying. Two more weeks and I’m there. I’ll help you hunt her down if it’s the last thing I do, I swear.”
　　Jack nodded, wiping his eyes. He needed his brother with him now, not in two weeks.
　　Who knew where he’d be in two fucking weeks?
　　BECKY
　　“Mom, you messed up. We didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Zach was back to his old self. Becky hated herself for it. This was her fault. She’d invited Jack into their lives when she hadn’t even known him at all.
　　“Zach, please,” Cass begged. “You don’t know—”
　　“Then explain it to me. Whatever he did can’t be that bad. She just doesn’t know how to forgive and forget.”
　　Becky felt nauseous.
　　“It’s her damn fault that he—”
　　“He has another family!” Cass yelled.
　　Zach took a step back like he’d been slapped.
　　Becky’s hands flew to her mouth. “Cassandra!”
　　“I’m sorry, Becks. I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut anymore.”
　　“No. I don’t believe you,” Zach spat.
　　A sob tore through her chest. “I’m sorry, honey, but it’s the truth.”
　　“His wife contacted your mother via fan mail. There were pictures, Zach.”
　　“Photoshop.”
　　“No, honey. Mervyn investigated it. The photo is real. He has another family.”
　　“No.” Zach shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I want to talk to him, hear him say it with his own mouth.”
　　“No,” Cass said gently. “He’ll just lie, Zach, and concoct some way to twist everything and turn your mother into being the monster. You want her to be the monster, Zach?”
　　Zach turned his imploring eyes to Becky. “How did you not know this, Mom?”
　　“Because he…” She couldn’t place all the blame on Jack. “I’m sorry. I should neverhave let you meet him.”
　　Zach stormed from the room.
　　Becky dissolved into tears.
　　Cass wrapped her arms around her. “He doesn’t have Jack’s number. The IT guys made sure of it.”
　　She nodded. She trusted Cass.
　　It had taken the team less than an hour to erase Jack from her life. If only she could erase him from her heart just as easily.
　　Her life had spiraled out of control. She spent most of her days sleeping, and any time she wasn’t asleep, she was crying.
　　Why hadn’t she seen the signs?
　　Her stomach churned, and with a hand to her mouth, ran to the bathroom, reaching it just in time to throw up.
　　Cass rushed in and helped her to bed. She checked her temperature and gave her a Valium and some ice water.
　　The next morning, Becky threw up again.
　　Concerned, Cass called Becky’s longtime physician, Dr. Kamala Grimes, who offered home health visits for a surcharge. A couple of hours later, there came the rare sound of the doorbell.
　　Becky, lethargic, listened to Cass’ bubbly tone as she greeted Dr. Grimes, and led her into Becky’s bedroom, chatting cheerfully.
　　As they reached her door, Cass was saying, “I love your new hairstyle, by the way!”
　　“Thank you.” Dr. Grimes patted her Afro and winked. “With those corkscrew curls of yours, you could almost pull this look off yourself.”
　　Dr. Grimes walked into Becky’s room, turning more somber at the sight of her. “Hi, Becky. Let’s see if we can get you feeling better, yeah?”
　　She performed a complete checkup, took her vitals, and asked some baseline questions about her recent medical issues.
　　“How long have you been experiencing nausea?”
　　“Past two days mostly.”
　　“Have you had any diarrhea?” she asked as she palpated her nymph nodes.
　　Becky shook her head.
　　“Have you been sexually active in the last six months?”
　　On that, she nodded.
　　Don’t think about him. Don’t think about him.
　　“When was the last time you menstruated?”
　　Becky tried to think. Menstrual math always stumped her. She had planned on getting her tubes tied, but between a hectic work schedule and a new relationship, she’d kept postponing it.
　　Tears welled up in her eyes. She couldn’t remember.
　　Dr. Grimes smiled kindly. “Let’s have you pee on this stick.”
　　She could do nothing but nod.
　　The doctor perched on the edge of her bed to wait.
　　She went into the bathroom, feeling a rising tide of humiliation and dread. “Please, don’t be pregnant,” she chanted. Not now. She was too old for this shit—and no way in hell did she want a baby with that bastard.
　　Unable to face anyone just yet, she stayed in the bathroom while the test did its job. Five minutes later, she bent over to examine the stick—and her world came to a screeching halt.
　　It was positive.
　　She fell to her knees and choked back her sobs, pounding the tile floor with her fists.
　　Cass burst into the bathroom, with the doctor on her heels.
　　“No, no, no.” She picked up the stick. “Fucking asshole!” she yelled.
　　The doctor helped her up and guided her to bed. “Seeing your reaction, it’s my duty as your doctor to ask, Rebecca. Have you been the victim of rape, sexual assault, or any kind of nonconsensual sex acts?”
　　Becky shook her head. “No, nothing like that. I just let myself get duped by the wrong guy.”
　　“You’re very early along in your pregnancy, Rebecca. You have options.”
　　“No, I’d never do that,” she said through tears.
　　“At your age…there are some increased risks.”
　　“I know.”
　　“I’ll need you to make an appointment next week, so we can determine how far along you are and get you on a prenatal plan if you decide not to terminate.”
　　Nodding, she said, “Thank you, Dr. Grimes.”
　　Cass showed the doctor out. When she returned, she stood in the doorway in cautious silence.
　　Becky broke it. “I don’t know what to tell you.”
　　“You don’t need to tell me anything,” Cass said. “But you do have to tell him.”
　　“No, I don’t. I’m Rebecca-fucking-Finlay. I don’t need anything from that asshole.”
　　“Your call, but you need to tell the kids, Rebecca. They need to know.”
　　Nodding, she said, “I’m sorry.”
　　“Hey, I’m sorry you have to go through this.” Cass kissed the top of her head.
　　“What was he thinking?”
　　“They don’t think.” Cass shrugged. “They see fame and fortune and everything goes out the window.”
　　“I wonder where he told his wife he was whenever he was with me.”
　　“Working late, conferences…”
　　“He can never find out about the baby.” She sniffed.
　　“I’ll try my best. I don’t know how on earth we’ll hide this from the world, but we’ll think of something.”
　　Becky did what seemed was all she could do over the past hour—she nodded.
　　Cass gave her a last hug and left.
　　This was just so fucking perfect.
　　The novel that had been inspired by him was now not going to be touched, because for her,there wasn’t going to be a happy ending. She was at a loss to think one up for Rachel.
　　What she should do is tear up the half-manuscript she’d typed out already, but she couldn’t.
　　Besides, it wouldn’t make her misery any less real.