Chapter 2

Logan stared at me for three seconds before bursting into loud, condescending laughter.

"Sienna, when did you become such a shameless liar?"

He stood up, towering over me with a look of pity that made my stomach churn.

"I know you still care about me. Let's just get back together. But you really need to work on that temper of yours."

He flicked the damp collar of his suit jacket.

"Let's grab dinner tonight. My treat. I'll book a table."

He didn't believe a single word I said.

In his mind, I was still that pathetic girl who would drop everything at his call.

"Logan, let me repeat myself: I am married." My tone dropped to sub-zero.

"Sure, sure, you're married to the billionaire CEO," Logan mocked, patronizing me as if I were a throwing a toddler's tantrum. "Seven tonight. The Bistro on Elm. Don't be late."

Without waiting for my reply, he turned on his heel and walked out.

The door clicked shut, and I stared at the wood grain for a long time.

My phone buzzed on the desk. It was a text from my husband.

“Hey baby, my flight just touched down. Seven tonight, The Bistro on Elm. I've got a surprise for you.”

What a ridiculous coincidence. But Julian's surprise was the only thing I cared about.

At six-thirty, I left my office right on time.

While driving, my phone lit up with a notification—a text from Logan.

I didn't even bother to read it, flipping the phone facedown onto the center console.

The Bistro on Elm was a high-end vintage lounge, all dark wood panels, warm amber lighting, and low jazz. The atmosphere was exquisite.

After the valet took my car, I stepped into the lobby.

The hostess recognized me instantly, giving a warm, respectful smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Vance. Mr. Vance hasn’t arrived yet. Would you like to wait on the private lounge sofa?"

I nodded and walked toward a velvet booth in the corner, settling into the plush cushions.

The lounge was quiet, with only a few patrons chatting in hushed tones.

I unlocked my phone to skim through my work emails. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught two figures stepping through the grand entrance.

It was Logan.

He had changed into a fresh navy suit. His hair was meticulously styled with pomade, looking polished and sharp.

Walking right beside him was a woman in a low-cut crimson slip dress, with heavy makeup and a smug, dazzling smile.

Hailey.

When Logan first introduced her, he swore she was just his childhood bestie—his "bro."

She was three years older than me and owned an upscale beauty salon.

Back then, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She had gotten married young and already had a kid in preschool. I didn't think I needed to guard myself against a married woman.

Yet, as time went on, every single date Logan and I went on, Hailey found an excuse to crash.

Movies, dinners, weekend getaways—it was always the three of us.

Logan's excuse was always the same: "She's just one of the guys, Sienna. Stop being insecure."

I was naive enough to believe it, thinking she was just friendly and outgoing.

Looking back now, I realized how painfully blind I had been.