Page 66 of The Better Sister

“Yes.”

“Did he ever leave bruises on you?”

“Yes.”

“Draw blood?”

“Yes. My lip, once. He never punched me in the face after that, though.”

Nunzio again, back on his feet. “Your Honor, this is clearly designed to—”

“Mr. Nunzio,” the judge said, “can I please remind you that you are the one who injected this topic into the trial with your cross-examination of the defendant? You can’t pick and choose which parts of the subject matter make you comfortable.”

I took a tiny amount of pleasure in seeing Nunzio slither, chastised, into his chair.

“Did you retaliate against your husband in any way?” Olivia asked.

“Yes.”

“Physically?”

“No, I tried defending myself once, and it did not go well.” I looked directly at the jury for the next sentence. “I retaliated by having an affair.”

My testimony was having the desired effect. Several jurors’ eyes widened. They were all leaning forward.

“When did this affair start?”

“Last September. Right after Labor Day.”

“So about eight months before your husband was killed?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have reason to believe this man knew that Adam was abusing you?”

“He would see bruises. On my body. I told him that I bruised easily, and that they were from Pilates. He’d joke around that I should probably find a workout that didn’t involve instruments of torture.” I pictured him kissing the dark purple blotch on my rib cage, supposedly from arching against the equipment, and delicately tracing his fingertip across the scrape on my neck, where I said a spring-loaded handle had ricocheted.

“Do you know where this man was on the night your husband was killed?”

“Not precisely. But I saw him in East Hampton, where he owns a house, the following day.” When I went to him that afternoon, he told me he had spent the previous night alone, watching Netflix. I was certain he was telling the truth. We hadn’t lied to each other, not until now.

Nunzio was flipping through documents that I suspected were my cell phone records. He wasn’t going to find anything.

“Did he know that Adam had been alone at your home the previous night?”

“Yes. I told him that, in fact. I spoke to him around five o’clock. He had just arrived in East Hampton. I told him that Ethan was staying at a friend’s for the night and that Adam wouldn’t be out until later. He asked to see me, but I told him I was leaving for a party.”

“So this man you were seeing knew you were going out for the evening, Ethan was already gone for the night, as well, and Adam was on his way home?”

Nunzio, his attention still aimed at documents on his desk, muttered an objection that Olivia was testifying, which was sustained.

“Was this man aware that only the three of you resided at your home?”

Nunzio objected again, but this time was overruled.

“Yes,” I answered. The implication was clear. My lover would have known that Adam would be alone once he arrived at the house.

“How far is this man’s East Hampton home from yours?”

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