Chapter 5 - Cracks in the FoundationMonday morning at the elementary school felt surreal.
I stood in front of twenty-two five-year-olds teaching them how to write their uppercase letters, while inside my skull, my thoughts were spinning like a centrifuge.
Sarah, one of the kindergarten co-teachers who had been at the birthday dinner, cornered me near the faculty copier during our ten-minute recess.
"Molly," she whispered, glancing nervously down the hallway. "I just wanted to say... I am so sorry about what happened. That was... that was insane."
"Thanks, Sarah," I murmured, feeding cardstock into the machine.
"Do you... do you think it's true?" she asked, lowering her voice further. "About Dan?"
"No," I said firmly, though my stomach churned.
"Because the way your dad reacted," Sarah continued, ignoring my denial, "seemed... I don't know. Really defensive. Like he was dodging a grenade, not defending his son-in-law."
I didn't answer her. I couldn't. Because Sarah had noticed the exact same thing Dan had noticed.
When I got home that afternoon, Dan was already back from the bakery. He had cleaned the kitchen, wiped down the counters, and was sitting at the kitchen island drinking black coffee.
"Your mom called me while you were at school," Dan said quietly without looking up.
"What did she say?"
"She wanted to know if we were coming to Friday night dinner at the Mexican restaurant." Dan finally looked up, his expression deadpan. "She acted like nothing happened. Like Tessa didn't drop a nuclear bomb on our lives forty-eight hours ago."
"My parents are experts at pretending things don't exist," I said, walking over to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water. "If they ignore a problem long enough, they genuinely believe it stops being real."
"Well, it's real, Molly," Dan said, standing up from the stool. "And I'm not going to dinner on Friday. In fact... I think we need to find out what's actually going on."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean your dad's insurance agency," Dan said, his eyes locking onto mine. "He keeps physical policy files in his Bearden office. If Tessa transferred her renters and auto insurance to him in August, her file will be there. It will list her home address, her emergency contacts, and maybe... just maybe... billing notes or correspondence."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Breaking into my father’s insurance office felt like crossing a sacred, unforgivable boundary. It felt like trespassing into a temple of family sanctity.
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"That's illegal, Dan," I whispered. "That's corporate property. That's my dad's livelihood."
"Your dad is an insurance agent, Molly. Not the Pentagon," Dan replied grimly. "And unless you want to spend the rest of your life wondering if your best friend is carrying your father's child while trying to frame your husband... we need to see what's inside that filing cabinet."
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