Chapter 2

The private dining room goes dead silent.

Then Preston lets out a mocking laugh.

“Pregnant? Are you kidding me? I haven’t touched you in forever.”

I almost roll my eyes.

How is he this shameless?

Does he really think I’ve been waiting for him this whole time?

Serena laughs too, her eyes full of open contempt.

“Chloe, stop pretending. Even if you’re trying to get Preston’s attention, don’t use such a pathetic lie.”

“Did you forget what people used to call you? The useless wife who couldn’t even give him a baby.”

During the two years I was married to Preston, no matter how hard we tried, I never got pregnant.

The Vale family despised me for it.

The insults never stopped. Preston only ever said, “Mom means well. Just put up with it.”

It wasn’t until later, when I got Preston’s medical report, that I learned the truth.

He has azoospermia.

No sperm at all.

The problem was never me.

I don’t bother explaining.

I just hold out my hand to Preston.

“Give me back the necklace my mother left me.”

I come back to New York for two things.

One, to buy back my mother’s family estate at auction.

Two, to get back the last thing my mother left me.

It’s an emerald necklace.

For a long time, I thought I’d lost it.

I blamed myself for it every day.

For the past two years, Serena has posted almost nonstop.

Hand-holding photos, kissing selfies, heart-shaped breakfasts, designer bags, jewelry, expensive gifts.

Every caption is meant to provoke me.

I never let it get to me.

Sometimes, I even found it funny.

Until last month.

That necklace appeared in one of Serena’s Instagram posts.

She took a mirror selfie wearing it, with the caption:

I said my neck looked bare one time, and he gave me a million-dollar emerald necklace. So this is what being treasured feels like.

That was when I realized the necklace wasn’t lost.

Preston had given it to Serena.

What gives him the right?

My mother designed that necklace for me while she was dying in a hospital bed, her hands wrapped in bandages, IV lines taped to her arms.

She drew every line of the design for me herself.

Preston scratches the back of his neck, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You don’t even like wearing jewelry. What do you need it for?”

My hands clench into fists.

“You knew how important it was to me. It was my mother’s.”

Serena lets out a fake little gasp beside him.

“Chloe, are you talking about this necklace?”

She opens her purse, casually takes out the necklace, and swings it in front of my eyes.

“You should’ve said it was yours earlier. Your mom was so good to me when she was alive. How could I take something of hers?”

The words hurt more than I want to admit.

Serena and I used to be best friends.

My mother treated her like a second daughter.

But on the day of my mother’s funeral, Serena climbed into my husband’s bed.

That night, I cried so hard I could barely breathe, and I called her, hoping she’d comfort me.

What I heard instead were the sounds of sex and Preston’s familiar, low breathing.

That same night, Serena sent me photos of the two of them in bed.

Her message was a taunt:

[Chloe Hart, what’s the point of marrying Preston Vale? In the end, I’m still the one who wins.]

So on our anniversary, when Preston gives me those photos, I’m not surprised.

I was almost relieved.

I snap back to the present and stand up to take the necklace.

But Serena lifts her hand and throws it out the window.

Then she gasps and sticks her tongue out at me.

“I’m so sorry, Chloe. My hand slipped.”

My heart stops for a beat.

I rush to the window and look down.

The thirty-third floor.

The ground is so far below I can barely see it.

Tears spring to my eyes from pure rage, and my voice shakes.

“You did that on purpose.”

“Don’t be mad, Chloe. I’ll go get it for you…”

She reaches for my hand with red eyes.

I shove her away.

She instantly screams and falls backward into Preston’s arms.

Two years later, and she’s still just as fake.

And Preston still can’t see it.

He glares at me and snaps, “Chloe Hart, that was too much.”

“Serena didn’t mean to do it. Why did you push her?”

I don’t waste time arguing with him.

I shove past him and run downstairs.

The necklace is shattered.

I search all night, and in the end, I only manage to find a few broken emerald pieces.

I take the pieces to a master jeweler and have him restore what he can.

That night, Serena posts again.

This time, it’s an ultrasound report.

The caption says:

[Twins. Looks like we’re going to be a family of four!]

I laugh silently.

Preston probably still has no idea.

The twins Serena is carrying aren’t his.