Mark Walked Into His Own Kitchen and Found His Wif…

I parked and walked in, already preparing myself for whatever was coming. Instead of using the front door, I entered through the garage, knowing nobody would hear me. I stood in the utility room for a moment, listening, but all I could catch were muffled voices beyond the kitchen.

I always carried a small voice recorder in my pocket, a habit John had encouraged me to develop for business meetings. I turned it on, slipped it back into my pocket, and let it run. Whatever was about to happen, I wanted a record of it.

Taking a slow breath, I opened the door and stepped into the kitchen. Eight people were crowded in the sitting area off the kitchen, arranged with the kind of stiffness that told me they had planned where everyone would be before I even arrived. Hannah, John, and Stephanie were on the three-seater sofa.