Chapter 3

I never let Damon see me like this.

I spin around fast and scrub at my eyes. Too late. He's already clocked the red rims and the wet streaks down my cheeks.

He sets down a bowl and pulls me into his chest.

"Hey. What's all this? The kids spent eight years getting called a murderer's children. Of course they're cold. Give them time."

I nod into his shirt. "I know."

Then I look up. "That thing I asked you to look into. Who leaked Mom and Dad's address. Did you ever find out?"

His face shifts. I feel his whole body go stiff against mine.

"Babe. It's been eight years. There's nothing left to trace."

I frown. "I was at the peak of my career. I bought them that place in the Hamptons specifically to keep stalker fans out. The address was locked down."

"Whoever knew where they lived was someone close to me."

"Damon." I grab his hand like it's the last rope on a cliff. "Please. You have to find out who did this. They burned alive. There wasn't even enough left to put in the casket."

After dinner, Damon takes the kids upstairs.

I run myself a rose-petal bath.

Partly to scrub eight years of prison off my skin. Mostly because tonight is supposed to be the first time my husband and I share a bed in nearly a decade.

I dig out the black slip he used to lose his mind over. I sit on the edge of the bed.

And I wait.

He doesn't come.

Eventually I pad down the hall. The kitchen's dark except for the fridge hanging half open. That's when I see them.

"Damon. Are you seriously going to sleep with that old bitch tonight?"

Chloe's in a red lace slip. Barely there. She drags one finger down his chest.

He catches her wrist.

"Chloe. Don't talk about her like that. She did eight years for you."

She laughs in his face.

"Sweetie. You had more money than God. One phone call and a hundred women would've lined up to take that fall for me."

She leans in.

"And let's be real. The night her parents walked in on us? The night they said they were going to the press? You're the one who handed their address to the victim's family."

"Damon." She winds his tie around her finger and pulls him in until their mouths are almost touching.

"Just say it. You wanted me. That's why you put her away."

Their breath is mixing.

He breaks. Grabs her by the jaw and bites down on her lip.

Between gasps, he's still talking.

"When I married her, I swore I'd never cheat. But you and me, baby, we go back to kindergarten. The only way to keep my word to her and my word to you was to put her somewhere she'd never find out."

Then they're kissing again. Loud. Hungry.

And I'm standing in the dark feeling my heart get carved up in strips.

The man I gave every piece of myself to.

He killed my parents.

The "girl he grew up with" he introduced me to at our engagement party?

She was never a little sister. She was the love of his life.

I don't remember walking back to the bedroom. My legs aren't mine anymore. I collapse on the floor.

My phone is buzzing on the nightstand. My old agent.

I can't reach for it.

I'm up before sunrise. I drive to my parents' grave.

I drop to my knees in front of the headstone and slap myself across the face. Hard.

Mom. Dad. I'm so sorry. You raised a fool.

Then I hear footsteps. A lot of them. Coming fast.