Chapter 1

On Valentine's Day, I posted my boyfriend on Instagram for the first time.

Not long after, a comment made my blood run cold:

"Wait, isn't that Mr. Sean Carter from our firm? Hasn't he been married with a kid for years?"

The comment came from Jenna, an ex-coworker who had been in the corporate circuit for six years and knew everyone.

Before I could even process it, she sent me a direct message with a photo.

It was a wedding picture. Sean stood there in a sharp tuxedo, beaming with joy next to a gorgeous bride.

"Taken three years ago. The whole company attended."

"Chloe... did he lie to you?"

So that was why he always claimed it was inconvenient to FaceTime on business trips. That was why he insisted on keeping our relationship off social media.

My phone buzzed. A text popped up from him:

"Didn't we agree to keep things between us? Delete that post right now."

I sent him the wedding photo without a single word.

After that photo was sent, the phone went dead silent for thirty seconds.

I sat on the edge of the bed in my apartment, staring at the screen showing "Read," digging my nails into my palms until it hurt.

Sean called immediately.

I picked up and stayed quiet.

He paused for a few seconds, his voice hushed. "Chloe, let me explain."

"Go ahead."

My voice sounded eerily calm.

"I am married."

"But it was arranged by our families. There’s no love left between us. We've been separated for two years."

"You're the only one I love. I didn't tell you because—"

"Because you were afraid I'd walk away," I finished for him.

Silence on the other end.

"Sean, when you told me to delete that post, did you think I was that easy to fool?"

"No, Chloe, please listen to me—"

"I'm listening."

He choked up. "My marriage is just a formality for business ties between our families. I have a kid, but it was an accident. Back then, she—"

He took a sharp breath.

"I'm not spending the rest of my life with her. I was planning to file for divorce by the end of this year and bring you home to meet my parents. I've genuinely been preparing for it."

My knuckles turned white around the phone.

"Preparing for what?"

"Preparing how to turn me into your secret side home?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Then how should I say it? Teach me."

He didn't answer.

I heard faint breathing and the rustle of papers on his end. He was probably still at the office.

I hung up.

I tossed the phone face-down onto the mattress.

I paced around the room twice, feeling a suffocating weight on my chest.

The phone buzzed repeatedly. Seven or eight texts popped up in a row.

"Chloe, don't be like this."

"I really don't love her anymore."

"I love you."

"Think about the past two years we've spent together. You know how good I've been to you."

"I bought you whatever you wanted. Have I ever said no to you?"

"I was just waiting for the right moment."

"Give me a little time. Once I settle things with my family, we can start fresh."

"Please don't shut me out. I'm begging you."

Seeing those last three words, I flipped my phone back over.

More notifications came in, but I ignored them.

Two months ago, he went on a business trip to Seattle.

I happened to be visiting a client in Seattle as well. When I asked which hotel he was staying at, he said the company booked everything as a group and it wasn't convenient for visitors.

I hadn't thought much of it back then. Now everything made sense.

The phone vibrated again.

It was a screenshot of a PayPal transfer: ten thousand dollars.

The note read: *Buy something you like. Please don't be mad at me.*

Staring at those words, I let out a bitter laugh.

It was always like this.

A fight? Buy a designer bag.

The silent treatment? Send a cash transfer.

Whenever he forgot an anniversary, he would make up for it the next day with a luxury necklace or bracelet.

Over the past two years, the jewelry he gave me could fill an entire vanity case, and the handbags took up half my closet.

I used to think this was his way of showing love.

Now I realized it was just his way of buying peace of mind.

I opened the transaction and refunded the money.

A second later, the phone rang again.

"Chloe, what is this supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"Can you stop making a scene? I know you're upset. Hit me, curse at me, do whatever you want—just don't do this. Let's talk like adults."