Chapter 2

The second time I saw Noah was at a charity gala I attended with Julian. Noah was still working as a catering server.

After that rooftop dinner, I hadn't texted him. But I did ask around about his life.

His grandmother had passed away. He was all alone in the world now.

Financially, his life was much easier than it had been in high school, but he was still addicted to working odd jobs, keeping every minute of his day packed.

Noah discreetly swapped the glass of champagne on his tray for sparkling berry juice and handed it to me, quietly sliding a plate of strawberry mousse in front of me as well. It was a silent, gentle gesture.

Of course, at an event like this, no one came for the food.

I stood there in the couture gown Julian had selected for me, enduring the judging stares of high society.

I listened to everyone sucking up to Julian, tossing me a few flattering scraps along the way.

"Go mingle, Chloe. I have some business to handle. I'll come find you in a bit."

Julian patted my head like I was a golden retriever. The executives standing opposite him immediately chimed in with praises.

"Mr. Sterling treats his wife like an absolute princess! You spoil her rotten."

Julian loved praise. He fed on it. He chuckled warmly and replied,

"I can't help it. Every time I look at her, I still see that cute high school girl. I guess I treat her like a kid sometimes. Excuse my indulgence, gentlemen."

The group laughed and walked away. Noah silently stepped up beside me.

"If you hate these parties, why do you even come?"

"I’m Julian’s wife. Showing up at these networking galas is part of my job."

"So he can just dump you in a corner alone where you don't know a single soul?"

I looked up at Noah, keeping my face blank. "Since when did you get so chatty? Trying to stir up trouble in my marriage?"

"I'm not!"

Noah's skin was naturally warm and tan, so his blushes didn't show easily, but whenever he got flustered, he instinctively looked away.

I didn't call him out on it. I didn't want to embarrass him further.

His voice softened, painfully earnest. "Chloe, I just worry about you. You don't look happy at all."

All the way through the end of the gala and into the private car ride home, Noah’s words echoed in my mind.

He said I didn't look happy. Was it really that obvious? Why hadn't Julian ever noticed?

I turned my head to look at my husband beside me. Julian had knocked back too many drinks again. Once we got home, a mountain of chores would be waiting for me.

I’d have to brew herbal hangover tea, help him strip down and shower, and stay half-awake all night just in case he choked on his own vomit.

I guess tonight wasn't the right night to bring up divorce either.

Julian’s head slumped heavily onto my shoulder. I asked him softly,

"Julian... I wasn't happy tonight. Did you notice?"

If he had just asked me what was wrong, or where the hurt was coming from—if he had shown even a shred of genuine care—I would have torn up the idea of leaving him.

Because God knew, I had loved him with all my heart once.

Instead, Julian chuckled, too lazy to even open his eyes.

"Chloe, you live a dream life because of me. Whatever you want, you get. Every woman in New York is jealous of you. What the hell could you possibly be unhappy about?"

In that brief second, I realized he wasn't drunk at all. That was his unfiltered truth.

He genuinely believed that marrying him was the greatest lottery ticket I could ever win.

The very last shred of my hope shattered into dust.