I froze on the photo, thumb hovering over the screen. "That can't be him," I whispered, even though my voice sounded small in the dark room. "Who are you talking to?" I said to the empty air, then laughed at myself and tapped the image bigger. "Zoom," I muttered to the phone, pressing until the grain of pixels filled the screen. The paparazzi caption said Gala Exit: Shen Yan and Lin Ya Leaving Summit. The flash caught the pendant—thin chain, a single pear-shaped stone set in a vintage prong. It was backlit so the gem glowed like a tiny window. "That's mine," I said out loud. "Show me the mole," I told myself, as if the mole would argue with me. "Right here," I whispered, tracing the screen. A small dark spot near his ear. I had kissed that spot once during our last night as husband and wife. "You're not seeing things," I said into the recorder app and hit save. "Photo, Shen Yan, Lin Ya, necklace—gift from me. Mole confirmed." "Stop, Avery," I told my hands and set the phone down. I pulled on a sweater and shoved my feet into boots. "I am not staying home." "Really?" I scolded my reflection in the hall mirror, tying hair back. "This is not drama. This is fact-gathering." "Good line," I said to my reflection, then left the apartment with the phone in my pocket. I sat at the coffee shop two blocks