Chapter 2

I turned my head toward the closed bathroom door. Behind it, the water was still running.

Tristan's phone lit up on the coffee table, a text preview flashing on the screen.

I hadn't meant to look, but the sender's name went straight into me — Élite Bridal Couture.

I picked up the phone.

The passcode was still my birthday. He'd never changed it.

The screen unlocked, and the message opened in full:

【Mr. Kaufman, the gown you ordered has arrived. Please bring your wife in to try it on at your convenience.】

Attached were photos of the finished dress, each one tagged with a price that made my breath catch.

I scrolled up, to what he'd sent them:

【I want the most expensive, most beautiful gown made for her. She deserves it.】

The date was three days ago.

That was the night he told me he had to work late.

I kept scrolling, the chat history rolling backward.

Two months ago, he'd bought Leah a private mansion. Paid in full. Put in her name.

My eyes stopped on those two words. Paid in full.

The year Tristan and I got married, he had no money for a wedding, couldn't even afford a decent pair of rings.

His eyes had gone red, and he'd said, Hester, wait for me. One day I'll give you the grandest wedding.

Later, when things slowly got better, I brought up the wedding more than once. He always said he was too busy, and kept putting it off.

The thing I'd waited for all that time, Leah got with a snap of his fingers.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles white.

"Tristan, not a single thing you promised has come true."

Then I sent a text:

【Draft me a divorce agreement. In it, I want to reclaim every bit of our marital assets.】

On the other end was the liaison from the Academy of Sciences. Over the years he'd asked me back more times than I could count, and every time I'd refused.

For this family, I'd pushed my own career aside again and again.

At least it wasn't too late now.

After his shower, Tristan claimed there was an urgent work matter. He came back two hours later, reeking of liquor, a red mark on his neck he hadn't quite hidden.

Seeing me on the living room sofa, he gave a slurred smile. "Hey, why are you still up? Waiting for me?"

Then he walked straight into the bedroom.

Once, no matter how late, he'd always held me first.

I sat on the sofa, cold to the center of my chest.

Then I heard the thin, muffled crying from my son's room.

Howie was curled under the covers, tears soaking his pillow, his little hand clutching a phone.

On the screen was a post Leah had just put up.

Her daughter, Carina Pruitt, sat at a brand-new white grand piano, beaming.

The caption read: 【Thank you to the best Daddy Kaufman in the world, for the surprise gift you gave my daughter.】

"Mommy, I saw that piano on Daddy's computer. I said I wanted it, and Daddy said it was too expensive, and that boys can't be spoiled."

Finally I understood why he was crying.

Tristan was always saying boys should be raised lean, and Howie hardly got anything he asked for.

That old phone's screen had been cracked for a year, and Tristan said it still worked, no need to replace it.

But for Leah's daughter, he'd reached straight for a limited-edition custom piano.

I went back to the living room just as the water shut off.

Tristan came out toweling his hair. I kept my voice low. "Didn't you say you were bringing Howie a gift?"

"Forgot, I forgot." He gave an awkward laugh and leaned in to hug me. "I'll get it next time. Boys are better off raised lean anyway."

"And that piano? The limited edition."

He frowned. "You went through my things?"

"Leah posted it. Howie saw. He cried all night."

Tristan clicked his tongue, his voice edged with impatience.

"It's not easy for her, raising a kid alone. The girl wanted it, so I helped out. You're really going to hold that against a child?"

"Howie wanted it too. He's wanted it for two years."

"How is that the same?" It came out before he could stop it. Then he waved it off. "Howie's a boy. He can't be spoiled. I'm strict for his own good."