Chapter 2

Stuart pulled out his phone with a sheepish look and opened the saved articles on my social account. "Babe, I noticed a few days ago you'd bookmarked some skincare pieces, so I asked a nutritionist and a dermatologist, and they both said oysters help. I know you don't like seafood, but I already cleaned it so there's no fishy smell."

There wasn't a single flaw in anything he said.

Stuart was the heir to the most powerful family in all of New York. Every day there were endless files and meetings waiting for him, and still, the moment I was unhappy, he would push everything aside and come to me.

Sometimes I couldn't bear to drag out his work, so I'd tell him not to bother staying with me, and he'd hold me with that wounded look, his head buried against my neck.

"How could work ever matter more than my wife? Your stomach's bad, so I'll come home every day and cook for you."

This time was no different. He remembered every request, every preference of mine, and he cooked for me.

I held back the smell and didn't bolt right away.

He reached out and touched my face, worried. "You're not feeling well, are you? I'll throw it out right now."

In the instant his hand touched me, I caught a faint milky scent.

But before I could be sure, his phone rang.

The moment he picked up, his brows knotted and his voice went tight.

"I'll come right now."

He grabbed the car keys by the door, his voice clipped with urgency.

"Rosalie, something's come up at the company, I have to get back and handle it immediately. I'll make it up to you tonight, your favorite roses."

The instant he stepped out the door, the room went silent.

The thread had rooted itself in my mind. My hands clenched the blanket, and the unease only grew.

Stuart's behavior, his explanation, all of it was the same as always. The same tenderness.

But every little detail kept whispering that something was wrong.

Fighting back the nausea, I went through the coffee table cabinet, the bookshelves, even the bathroom trash can.

Everything was normal. Nothing but the traces of the life Stuart and I shared.

Had I really just imagined the smell?

I gave my head a shake and went to sink into the beanbag chair to rest, and that was when I found something wedged in the cushion.

My hand stopped. Slowly, I pulled it out.

A piece of lingerie, stained with a milky-white fluid and that same milky scent.

And for the past two months, Stuart and I hadn't been intimate at all.

In that moment, a roar went off inside my skull.

I went cold all over, my hands shaking as I took out my phone and saw the update under that top comment.

"Bro, I just used seafood to cover it, and my wife didn't suspect a thing. Works every time! She didn't catch it last time either. Last time I went at it with her best friend right there in the bedroom, what a rush! Right now my little lover and I are getting ready for tomorrow's birthday party."

The thread starter replied instantly: "Already got the seafood going, man, you eat well! You got any photos of you two going at it?"

The top comment didn't answer him with words. He attached a picture instead.

Two hands in the photo, fingers laced together. I knew Stuart's hand the second I saw it, and on the woman's wrist was a distinctive red string bracelet.

The one I'd prayed for, to keep Luna Pruitt safe through her delivery.

So Stuart really had cheated, with my best friend Luna Pruitt.

And they had a child together.

The vasectomy was a lie. Wanting only me was a lie too.

He'd even brought Luna into our bedroom, left the marks of the two of them all over our home.

It felt like a giant hand tearing my heart in two, the tears blurring everything in front of me.

My chest felt crushed, the pain so sharp I couldn't breathe.

Stuart remembered I loved roses, remembered my favorite cake, remembered to cook for me, remembered to come home and give me a kiss.

But he'd forgotten the one promise between us.