Chapter 2

Bella had sent a mirror selfie.

She wore a champagne-colored lace negligee, standing before the full-length mirror of a hotel room. The neckline dipped so low it nearly slipped off her shoulders. The moonstone pendant rested just above her breasts.

"I put it on. The chain length you chose... it falls right where you kiss me most. It's warm against my skin now, just like you were last night."

I scrolled up rapidly.

Their chat history was endless.

My husband—who never replied to my messages—was responding to his secretary mistress almost every minute of the day.

Finally, the messages stopped. Three years ago.

Three whole years.

That day, Liam had a fever that wouldn't break. I'd held him all night, sent Damian countless messages.

He replied once: "Busy."

And his version of "busy" was here, flirting with Bella.

Bella: "Your office couch still smells like my perfume... Did you notice during the meeting?"

Damian: "I did. So the whole meeting, I was thinking about..."

Bella: "Then tonight... want to verify it again?"

I kept scrolling. The content grew unbearable—including conversations where they mocked me.

Bella: "She's going to be standing next to you again at next week's pack gathering. Just imagining it makes me sick."

Damian: "Bear with it. She's still useful for now. At least she deflects a lot of trouble for you."

Bella: "I don't need that! I want to stand beside you openly!"

Damian: "You will."

I forced myself to continue, scrolling to something even worse—his private chat with one of his so-called brothers.

The other man: "Haha, Bella really knows what she's doing. Knows when to come close, when to disappear. That time in the lounge... exciting enough for you?"

Damian: "She's smart. Knows how to help me relax. Unlike some people—touch them and they go stiff like they're walking to execution."

I finally retched.

So this was how he and his circle saw the home I'd worked so hard to build.

And Bella's "intelligence" lay in knowing how to please him with her body.

The antique clock on the wall ticked steadily.

I drew a deep breath and began taking screenshots.

This wasn't the time for tears.

When I finished, I locked the screen. The cold phone sat heavy in my grip.

I walked back to the bedroom.

Damian lay with his back to the door, sleeping without a care.

How many times had I gazed at this back in the darkness?

I walked to the bed and shook his shoulder hard.

"Damian."

He frowned, opening his eyes with extreme irritation. "What the hell are you doing in the middle of the night?"

I said nothing. I simply held the unlocked phone screen in front of his face.

Bella's mirror selfie glowed harsh in the darkness.

His gaze focused on the screen.

In that instant, I'd imagined many reactions.

Panic?

Guilt?

Begging for forgiveness?

None of those.

After registering what he was seeing, he paused for only a heartbeat. Then he smiled.

"Nice shot. That moonstone necklace really does suit her."

He slowly pushed himself up to sit against the headboard, rubbing the bridge of his nose. His tone dripped with weariness. "And you, Erin—when did you learn to go through other people's things?"

I met his cold gaze. "Three years. Right?"

He looked at me lazily. "Yes. So what?"

"Why?" I heard my own voice trembling.

"Why?" He repeated the word. "What answer do you want? That I don't love you anymore? That I've fallen for her? Or do you want me to repent?"

"Erin, don't make this ugly. Some things are better left unspoken. It's easier for everyone."

"I want the truth!" I clenched my fists.

"The truth?" He scoffed, his gaze flicking to the phone still in my hand, then back to my face. Finally, he dropped every pretense. "The truth is, I'm done. Since you insist on knowing..."

He paused for a second.

"Let's get a divorce."