Shredded Secrets and Cold Revenge

On the night of my birthday, my husband—who worked as a contractor for a highly classified defense intelligence agency—sent me a Zelle transfer for $5,000.

[Baby, an emergency came up at the agency. I'm stuck working late. I am so sorry I can't be there to celebrate with you.]

The notification glowed on my screen. And in that exact moment, I was standing in the shadowed alcove of my own corporate building's lobby, watching him walk through the revolving glass doors. His arm was wrapped tightly around his adopted sister.