When my son-in-law walked into my pregnant daughter’s funeral with his mistress on his arm, I nearly dragged her out myself. I thought that was the worst moment of the day — until her lawyer said Grace had left a “farewell gift” for him. When he revealed what it was, the entire church went silent.

Grace always loved lilies.

She kept a little vase of them on her kitchen windowsill every spring without fail.

And now here they were, surrounding her casket, and all I could think was that I would never be able to look at a lily again.

My daughter was gone. The baby she’d been carrying in her belly was gone, too.

The police had called it a tragic accident, and I kept turning those words over and over in my mind.

It wasn’t enough to explain why my Gracie was gone.

Somewhere behind me, a woman sniffled. The organ music drifted through the air low and slow.

My husband, Frank, sat beside me, and I knew he was doing the same thing I was — holding himself together by willpower alone.

Then the church doors opened behind us.

I didn’t think much of it until I heard the gasps and whispers.

I turned, and there was Bill, my son-in-law.

He wasn’t alone.

A tall brunette walked beside him, her hand looped through his arm, her black dress cut tight enough to be a statement.

My stomach dropped straight to the floor.

Frank turned, saw what I saw, and went completely still beside me.

“I-I think so, Em,” Frank replied. “That must be Sharon.”

I bit my lip so hard, I tasted pennies.

Sharon. I first heard that name when Grace was in her first trimester.

We’d invited her and Bill to dinner, but she came alone.

“Bill had to work late,” she said with a small smile.

“What’s he working on?” Frank asked.

Grace burst into tears. I thought it was just hormones, but then she started talking.

“I-I think he’s—” Grace broke off, sobbing. “I think Bill’s having an affair.”

We sat her down in the living room and listened as she told us about the late nights Bill had been spending at the office, and how he was constantly texting his colleague, Sharon.

I held her close and told her it might be nothing, and that she shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

Now, I was watching my son-in-law walk into my daughter’s funeral with his mistress.

Bill guided her down the aisle with one hand at the small of her back.

He steered her into the front row.