“You know that penthouse my father had?”

“The one you think he used to see his mistress?” Even the word makes my skin crawl.

“That’s the one.” Lincoln runs his hands up and down his thighs. “Someone’s been in there recently, and I want to check it out.”

“How do you know someone’s been there?”

“Every time a person enters the penthouse, I get an alert. I cancelled the housekeeping service after I discovered the place, so there’s no reason for anyone else to be there. And I checked with Armstrong, and he said it wasn’t him.”

“And you believe him?”

“He said, and these were his words, playing dress up in Dad’s old fetish gear isn’t how he wants his sex to go down.”

“He’s unbelievable.”

“He certainly is that. Anyway, I wanted to check things out, because obviously someone else has an access code for the penthouse besides me and Armstrong, and I’m assuming it has to be a mistress.”

“Have you managed to dig up any other information about the property?” I ask.

“Honestly, I’ve been too preoccupied with everything else that’s going on, and there are so many files to go through. I have some I want to look over this weekend, see if any of it links to this place.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“Anything I can do to help, you let me know.” I reach over and squeeze his thigh. “You know, Dani’s a PI, so say the word, and I can ask her to look into it for you.”

He frowns. “Really? I thought she worked in IT.”

“That’s part of her job.” Often she finds backdoor ways to get information. I don’t ask a lot of questions about how she comes by it. I just know she has access to things I know nothing about it.

He laces our fingers together. “Let’s see what we find when we get to the penthouse.”

He doesn’t let go of my hand until we have to get out of the car. The ride up to the penthouse floor is tense with Lincoln nervously tapping against the handrail.

I follow him through the penthouse, wondering who Fredrick met here, and how that person felt about being the other woman. Did she consider how it damaged the relationship he was already in? Was she the reason he never connected with his wife? Who else was hurt because of their affair besides Lincoln and Armstrong? There are too many unknowns and what-ifs in a situation like this.

Lincoln stops in every room. The drawers in the master bedroom have been emptied, as have the closets. The sex room appears to be untouched, so I get to see, in three dimensions, exactly what Fredrick got up to in the bedroom, at least with his mistress. I honestly can’t see, and don’t want to imagine, Gwendolyn taking part in any of this.

Lincoln spends only a few seconds in there before he closes the door and returns to the kitchen. He opens the fridge to find it bare. “I wonder if his mistress has been here.” He strides across the room and yanks open a door, which leads to an empty pantry. “This was full before, and there was stuff in the fridge.”

“Do you think she came to clean it out?” It’s obvious someone did, but I don’t know what else to say.

He turns to me, looking lost. “Is it wrong that I want to know who she is? I just want to understand all of this.”

“I don’t think it’s wrong. It’s human, Lincoln, and understandable. This is a part of your father you don’t know and that doesn’t make sense to you. But even if you find out who she is, you’ll never really get the answers as to why, as least not from your father’s side.” For a moment I consider telling him that I’m a product of an affair, that the man I call my father doesn’t share any of my DNA and the man who does gave up his legal rights without a fight. That I’ve spent the last ten years wondering if my mother looks at me and sees her biggest mistake. That I’m ashamed of how I came to be, or that I’m here, and my sister, their real child, didn’t even survive three days. But I don’t want to shift the focus away from him and his pain, so I keep it where it’s safest—a weight in my chest I can’t ever seem to unload.

“Knowing something seems like it would be better than knowing nothing.” Lincoln crosses through the living room and opens another closed door. This one leads to an office. It’s a gorgeous space with built-in bookshelves, floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of Manhattan’s skyline. Based on the setup and the top-of-the-line computer, this office was used regularly.

“I didn’t come in here last time.” Lincoln walks the perimeter of the room until he reaches the desk. He drops down in the leather executive chair and runs his hands across the smooth wood surface.