I scrolled back to the more recent links.
My blood suddenly ran cold in my veins.
There was a link for some kind of escort service website.
I clicked on it.
She was logged into it.
I clicked on the link that led to her account and then her profile.
Fuck.
There she was. My wife.
In a long red dress I’d never seen before. Red lipstick. Hair done in a way it never was—Evie usually just wore it back in a ponytail.
She’d given herself a name: Velvette.
My wife was a prostitute.
The proof was right there on the page.
A few heartbeats later, my mind connected the gambling websites and the escort site. The escort site had come after the gambling sites—had Evie been desperate for money?
It made sense. Terrible sense.
I clicked around the website. There were men on the site, too—older men. Sugar daddy types. Offering money, gifts and trips away.
Had Evie gone off with one of these men, for money?
I didn’t even know which was worse: Evie cheating on me or Evie selling herself for money.
If she had gone off with a guy, what if he was an axe murderer?
I hadn’t realised I was muttering to myself before I looked up and saw Willow standing at the door. Pressing my lips together hard, I quickly closed the laptop.
I could tell from her expression that she knew something was up.
Mummy was gone. Daddy was acting weird.
Maybe I should have left the girls with Marla. Too late now. “What’s up, honey?”
“It’s lunchtime. Can we have cheesy mac?”
“Doesn’t Mummy usually make you sandwiches?”
She shook her head. “No, she makes us cheesy mac.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”
“Lilly wants cheesy mac, too.” Willow deflected her lie rather than admit to it. How had she learned to do that so young?
“Okay, macaroni it is. Just today.”
“And you said ice cream.”
“Okay, yeah, and ice cream.”
“And apple pie for the ice cream.”
“Choose one.”
A dead silence followed. Willow raced off downstairs. I knew that she and Lilly would have their heads together, holding a quick and frantic board meeting.
Willow’s head appeared around the edge of the doorway a minute later, her expression serious. “We want ice cream.”
“Okay. Done deal. Go and get your shoes on, and help your sister with hers.”
Willow sped away again.
So, what was I supposed to do now? My wife was most probably with some guy right now, doing who knew what. Should I just be waiting here like a chump for her to come home to me and the kids?
What if I signed up to the site—as a damned sugar daddy? Put up a fake photo and pretended to be a big shot, someone who dropped thousands at casinos every week. Even if Evie was busy with whoever the hell she was with right now, she’d have to answer someone like that.
Maybe later, after I’d made the kids lunch and got them ice cream, I’d think that idea was nuts.
I headed downstairs, my head feeling like it’d been chewed and spat out.
17. Evie
THERE WAS AN AIR OF EXCITEMENT at breakfast. A few of us had been eliminated but all the teams had solved the challenge. We’d lost Andre. I’d secretly hoped it would be Duncan or Ruth.
Shade from the surrounding trees of the garden made a dappled, swaying pattern over us, putting us half in deep darkness and half in shimmering summer sun.
Richard plunged a knife into a peach and lifted it to his chin, eating it straight from the blade. “We’re like gladiators, feasting after destroying the beast.”
Poppy dabbed at his chin with a cloth napkin, like a mother fussing over a rowdy toddler.
Maybe the mentors knew what they were doing after all. That feeling of accomplishing the seemingly impossible was something you rarely got from everyday life. I had to replace the highs of gambling with better things, real things.
Kara sat at another table by herself, quietly sipping tea, hood over her head as usual and shutting everyone out. I was glad she’d made it through, despite the fact that neither of us wanted the other to be here.
Cormack piled his plate high with a doughnut shaped, sesame seed–coated bread that one of the Greek people told us were called koulouria. Sighing, Cormack took a large bite of bread. “Damn if we didn’t go too close to the wire last night.”
“Not us,” Richard boasted. “We had time to spare.”
“And you made pains to tell everyone that in the dorm last night.” Cormack munched his koulouri. “You big-headed bastard.” He gave Richard a quick grin to show he wasn’t serious. It seemed he’d forgiven Richard for being a rich fat cat.