I was told.
I want that written down before anything else, because there is a version of this where I am a woman ambushed at an airport and that version is not true.
At a wedding in the May of 2023 — five months before that dinner — Bexley’s ex-husband Corwin got hold of me by the bar and said something I did not want to hear.
He had had two drinks. He was bitter about the divorce. He said Whit had been seeing somebody at the hospital for about a year and that the family knew and that his own ex-wife had covered for it twice.
And I decided he was a man being spiteful about a family that had cut him off.
Which he was. Both of those were true at once and I only took the first one.
Then in the February of 2024 there was a charge on our joint card for a hotel in Ardenmoor on a weekend Whit was at a conference in Ardenmoor.
He said he had booked a room for a colleague whose reservation fell through and had never been reimbursed.
That is a completely reasonable explanation and it took him about four seconds to produce it and I have thought about those four seconds a great deal since.
There were three trips before the one I watched from a walkway.
The July of 2024. The Christmas of 2024, which I was told was a men’s golf thing. And the April.
Rosa Farrow booked all three. She is a retired travel agent. She got a group rate.
And the woman is Anneke Voss, who is thirty-three and a theatre nurse at the same hospital.
She is not a villain and I have had to work at that. She was told, from the first month, that Whit and I were separated and living in the same house for financial reasons until a property settled.
She had been told that for two years. She believed it, because he is extremely good at that voice.
