I looked out the window.
People crossed the parking lot.
Someone carried two coffees.
Normal world.
Rosalind whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
“I kept this from you.”
“You didn't make vows to me.”
“She is my sister.”
“I know.”
“I thought protecting her meant giving her time to do the right thing.”
I nodded.
“And now?”
“Now I think I was helping her avoid consequences.”
We sat quietly.
Then I told Rosalind something else.
While lawfully reviewing Bryce’s professional background, I had found corporate disclosures and federal court records involving his employer.
The company had publicly acknowledged receiving federal civil investigative demands relating to potentially false distribution and reimbursement arrangements with hospital networks.
The matter had not reached mainstream news.
It was buried in legal filings and a parent-company disclosure.
Bryce himself appeared in documents connected to the sales region under review.
I did not know whether he had committed a crime.
I did not know whether he would personally be charged.
And I was not going to claim I knew.
What I did know was that the professional situation surrounding him was serious.
Rosalind read the documents.
Then stared at me.
“Fiona doesn't know.”
“I don't think she does.”
“Oh God.”
I said:
“I am not using this to threaten her.”
“I’m not publishing it.”
“I’m not calling her employer.”
“I’m not trying to destroy Bryce.”
“Then what?”
“You love her.”
“Yes.”
“She is planning to leave a fifteen-year marriage for a man she may not understand.”
Rosalind looked at the papers.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tell her.”
“When?”
I told her about Josephine.
Rosalind stared.
“You want me to walk into your anniversary dinner?”
“After she tells me.”
“What if she doesn't?”
“Then don't.”
“How will I know?”
“I’ll text you.”
Rosalind sat back.
“This feels like revenge.”
That bothered me because part of me knew she was right.
Not completely.
But enough.
I said:
“Maybe part of me wants her to feel, for one minute, the shock I’ve been carrying six weeks.”
Rosalind said nothing.
“I’m not proud of that.”
I continued.
“But if she is leaving anyway, I would rather she make the decision with information instead of fantasy.”
“Do you want her to stay?”
“No.”
That surprised Rosalind.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Even if she ends Bryce tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I thought.
“Because the affair is not the only problem.”
“She built another life for two years.”
“She watched me live inside a version of our marriage she knew wasn't real.”
“I don't know how to rebuild from that.”
Rosalind lowered her eyes.
“Does she know you know?”
“No.”
“She thinks she is going to surprise you.”
“Yes.”
“That’s cruel.”
“I know.”
Rosalind looked at me.
“You could tell her now.”
“I could.”
“Why wait?”
I had no perfect answer.
Eventually I said:
“Because she chose the anniversary.”
“She chose Josephine.”
“She chose the moment.”
“I want her to own it.”
Rosalind nodded slowly.
Not approval.
Understanding.
The night arrived.
I wore a charcoal suit Fiona had bought for my birthday two years earlier.
That detail amused me in a way I could not explain.
I reached Josephine five minutes early.