Chapter 4: Their Perfect Performance

The threat of divorce was still hanging in the air when Cole made his first move.

The next day, the Phoenix Fire Department released a statement classifying the incident as a "rescue-related fatality."

To protect probationary firefighter Jade, who was allegedly suffering from "severe psychological trauma," star captain Cole Barrett took full responsibility, attributing the outcome to a "command error on his part."

That story protected everyone but me and the woman lying in the morgue.

Then came the press conference outside City Hall.

I sat in my mother-in-law's silent living room, watching the livestream on my laptop.

Cole stood before a bank of microphones, looking gaunt and exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes.

He apologized to the public. He apologized for the loss of life. Then he pivoted, praising Jade's "extraordinary courage" and pleading with the public not to destroy a young firefighter's future over one "understandable mistake."

His voice was hoarse, his fatigue utterly convincing.

The cameras panned to Jade, standing behind him.

She wore a plain fire department uniform, no makeup, her eyes swollen and red.

She faced the cameras and choked out "I'm sorry" again and again, her body trembling with just the right amount of remorse.

The comments on the livestream flooded with sympathy.

"She's just a rookie—that's too much pressure!"

"The captain is a real man for taking responsibility."

"That poor girl looks like she's about to collapse. Leave her alone."

Just as the carefully orchestrated performance was winding down, a reporter lobbed a question.

"Captain Barrett, why isn't the victim's daughter—your wife, Nora Hale—here today?"

A flicker of perfectly calibrated pain crossed Cole's face.

He looked straight into the cameras and sighed heavily.

"My wife... she and her mother have always had a difficult relationship."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Her mother's sudden death has left her emotionally unstable. She's currently resting at home under care."

On the screen, he was the long-suffering husband, shouldering the world for his fragile wife.

Off-screen, I calmly shut the laptop.

They had put on their show.

Now it was my turn.