Chapter 1

Grant and I hadn't been intimate in a long time.

Tonight he was unusually eager—rough, even.

That box of condoms on the nightstand, nearly expired, finally got some use.

I closed my eyes and surrendered to it all.

Trembling. Gasping. Calling his name: "Grant..."

But then his hand clamped over my mouth. My moans broke into fragments, and the darkness sharpened every sensation.

Just as I reached the edge, his breathing shattered completely. His fingers dug into my waist. Then came a low groan:

"Mia..."

I froze. Blood rushed to my head, then drained away just as fast, leaving me ice-cold.

I shoved him off and sat up, chest heaving.

He paused for exactly one second—one second—then tried to keep going like nothing had happened.

I pressed my palm against his chest and pushed him back.

"Who did you just call?" My voice came out raw. "Say it again, Grant."

He leaned back against the headboard and rubbed his temples, his tone dripping with irritation.

"Evelyn, don't make this complicated."

Complicated?

My husband called out another woman's name at climax, and I'm not even allowed to ask?

I forced myself to stay calm. I even tried to give him an out.

"Were you drunk?" I asked. "Or is work getting to you? If you just—"

He looked up at me, his voice flat. "Let's get a divorce."

"Why?" My heart plummeted. "Because you slipped up just now? Or have you been planning this all along, and this was just your excuse to say it?"

He stared at me. No guilt in his eyes—only the cold certainty of a decision already made.

"I've found what I really want," he said. "Mia needs a title."

For a moment, I thought I'd heard him wrong.

Mia Carter.

Of course I knew her.

His secretary at Weston Capital. Fresh out of college three years ago, she'd been at his side ever since.

A young girl.

I drew a deep breath, my nails digging into my palm.

"You've been cheating."

"Don't put it like that." He frowned. "I'm not looking for thrills, and I'm not trying to get back at anyone. I've just finally figured out what I want."

"She makes me feel young again," he said. "That rush. That recklessness. That fearlessness. I've been with you too long. All that's left at home is the kid, schedules, rules, and responsibilities. I don't want to live like that anymore."

I laughed bitterly.

Oh, Grant. You say she makes you feel young again.

But when you were young, you were dead broke. You counted every penny just to scrape together a security deposit.

Back then, your useless pride wouldn't let you ask anyone for money.

I was the one trailing behind you, protecting your ego while slipping back to my mother's, pretending everything was fine, then quietly pressing cash into your hands.

Not once or twice. Again and again.

How else do you think you went from a nobody with nothing to a multimillionaire in ten years? How do you think you ended up giving orders in that Weston Capital boardroom?

You don't see what I've done.

All you see is your own lost youth.

What a joke.

"What about me?" I stared at him. "What about Noah? Our family? You're just going to throw it all away?"

He leaned back. "Noah is my son. That won't change."

"As for you..." he said, "Evelyn, there's nothing left between us. All you care about anymore is the kid and household chores. You're like a machine running on autopilot."

I blinked, then nearly laughed at the absurdity.

I'm the machine?

"Fine, you want a divorce," I said. "But at least give me the truth. When did it start with her? How are you going to explain this to Noah? To everyone at the company?"

He looked at me and actually smiled. "Explain what?"

"Adults split up all the time. What other people think doesn't matter. What matters is I don't want to waste any more time."

"Waste time?" I repeated. A dull ache spread through my chest. "Everything we've built together—that's a waste to you?"

He didn't answer.

"Have your lawyer handle the divorce agreement," he said. "I'll give you enough to live on."

Grant got out of bed and walked to the balcony. He pushed open the door, letting the night air sweep in, and lit a cigarette with his back to me.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my palms freezing. A few seconds later, I got up and went to the living room.

I needed to think clearly.

I had to think clearly.

Grant's laptop sat on the table, the screen still glowing.

I hadn't meant to look, but in the darkness, the light was impossible to ignore.

The next second, a notification popped up.

A photo.

Before I could look away, I saw everything.

The room spun.