I knew for three weeks before the dinner party. I poured the wine. I plated the lamb. I let everyone get comfortable. Then I set my fork down.

When my marriage cracked, I expected to lean on my oldest friend. I never imagined she was the one holding the knife the whole time.

Eight months pregnant, I practically pushed him out the door for a guys' weekend. Then his best friend called, and the line went dead the second I told him where my husband was.

She wanted him to be the soft place she landed when her relationship finally collapsed. He had other plans for the night she pushed too far.

He came home from his Saturday run with two coffees and a kiss. I almost didn't read what the barista had scrawled on the side of mine.

I bought the DNA kit to trace my grandfather's village. Two matches came back. One of them carried a surname I had only ever heard in my own jealous nightmares.