Part 2: I discovered my husband was having an affair with my best friend while we were all on the same airplane—and neither of them knew I was there. Instead of confronting them, I sent a small, beautifully wrapped gift to their seats.

Now Dawson was staring at a photograph of a living little boy.

A little boy who looked remarkably like him.

"No," I whispered.

Dawson wiped his face.

"Claire, Elliot would be four years and three months old."

I looked down at the photograph.

The child's age fit.

So did the hair.

The eyes.

The small dimple beside his chin.

Then Dawson whispered, "What if my son never died?"

I couldn't answer.

Because if he was right, what Ryan and Megan had done was no longer merely an affair.

It was something far worse.

My mother stirred in her hospital bed.

I'd almost forgotten she was there.

She opened her eyes, glanced at our faces, and immediately frowned.

"What's happened?"

I hurried to her bedside.

"Nothing you need to worry about right now, Mom."

She gave me the look she'd used when I was twelve and tried to hide a broken window.