Chapter 13: The Live Page

The red light on Lacey's phone blinked, steady.

Under it, in the corner of the screen, a number was climbing.

It said 31,408 watching.

By the time I'd read it, it said 31,900.

"It's the Row Report's live page," Lacey said. "The man in the leather jacket was thrilled. He's waited six years for you to cry."

Preston made a noise behind me.

"Pip, you said this was just for Mother."

"I said a lot of things, Pres."

She held the phone out at arm's length and aimed it at my face.

I understood then what she wanted.

The Flat Wife breaks into her sister's loft and finds her husband in his socks.

The Flat Wife screams and throws the laptop.

And Lacey stands there in his shirt with a coffee, the calm one, the one who always comes.

I took my hand off the keyboard.

I didn't scream.

I walked up to the phone until I was a foot from the lens, and I looked straight into it.

"My name is Joanna Gallivan," I said.

"For six years you were shown my husband's women, and so was I."

"My sister picked every one of them."

"She filmed them in this room, and she sent me the videos, and afterward she brought me coffee."

"That's all I came to say."

The number on the screen jumped to forty thousand.

Lacey's smile slipped, just at one corner.

She had wanted me to say more.

She had wanted me to beg.

"Go on, then," she said, quietly, with the phone still up. "Say the rest. Say who held me up for eleven years."

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