Chapter 1

The storm was raging outside with torrential rain and flash flood warnings, and the after-school center had already called three times asking for our son to be picked up.

I called my husband, asking him to pick him up, but he flatly refused.

"A boy shouldn't be coddled. So what if he gets a little wet? I told you, he needs to walk home no matter what the weather is."

Unable to talk sense into him, I dashed out into the storm myself.

It took forty minutes round-trip. I was soaked to the bone, my sneakers squelching with every step.

When I pushed open the front door, the living room lights were glowing warmly, and the heating was turned all the way up.

A woman was wearing my husband's oversized button-down, drying her hair with a towel.

She looked up, saw me, and smiled with crinkling eyes.

"Savannah, you're back? Luke insisted the roads were too dangerous and went out of his way to pick me up from work. He just couldn't leave me stranded."

"I told him he was making a mountain out of a molehill. See? You made it back completely fine, too."

I stood in the entryway. The rainwater in my sneakers had risen to my ankles, squelching wetly with every tiny shift of my weight.

I was soaked through from head to toe. Cold droplets dripped from the ends of my hair, splattering into tiny dark spots on the tile floor.

Behind me, my seven-year-old son, Leo, was wrapped in my only waterproof jacket. Only his big, dark eyes peeked out, staring intently at the strange woman standing in our living room.

"Mommy, why is she wearing Daddy's shirt?"

Leo poked half his face out from the jacket, his voice small and muffled.

Before I could answer, the slap of slippers sounded from the stairs.

Lucas was walking down in his gray loungewear, phone in hand, the screen still glowing with severe weather alerts.

The moment he saw me standing in the foyer, his brows knotted tight.

"You went and got him?"

He took the stairs two at a time, his slippers slapping loudly against the hardwood as he marched right up to me.

"Savannah, haven't I told you a hundred times not to baby him? So what if he walks in the rain? Are you going to spoil him until he's too scared to walk home in a little storm?"

As he barked, Leo slipped further out of the jacket. His small shoulder was exposed to the draft, shivering violently.

I looked down at my son's pale lips. Ignoring Lucas entirely, I knelt down, pulled the jacket tightly around Leo, and smoothed back the wet strands of hair plastered against his forehead.

"Go upstairs, turn on the hot water, and take a bath before you catch a cold."

Leo didn't move. His gaze stayed glued to the woman on the couch.

"Mommy, she—"

"Be a good boy. Go on up," I urged gently, giving him a soft nudge. "Call me when the tub is full."

Leo hesitated, glanced back at Lucas, and then scurried up the stairs.

Lucas stayed rooted where he was, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched tight. He looked as furious as if I had just slapped him across the face in public.

The woman on the couch finally stood up. She walked over barefoot across the rug, her ankles delicate and her toenails painted a soft pastel pink.

She pulled Lucas's shirt a little tighter around herself. The hem barely covered the tops of her thighs. She gave me an innocent, gentle smile.

"Luke, don't be too hard on Savannah. It was pouring out there. She was just worried about her kid."

She stepped right beside Lucas, casually reaching out to pat his forearm. The gesture was so natural, so practiced, it looked like second nature.

Under her touch, the tension in Lucas's arm visibly eased, his hostility deflating in an instant.

"Have you guys eaten yet? I brewed some hot ginger tea. You should have a mug to warm up."

She turned toward the kitchen, took two steps, and looked back over her shoulder, tilting her chin up with a sweet smile.

"Savannah, your shoes are completely soaked. Want me to grab you a dry pair of slippers?"

The way she said my name carried an airy lilt—dripping with a sickening mix of fake intimacy and condescension.

Lucas reached out, caught her wrist, and gently tugged her back.

"Why are you bothering with her? If she wants to run around in the rain, let her. Valerie, sit down. Don't lift a finger."

Valerie.

I rolled the name over in my mind, over and over.

Six months ago, she returned from abroad and was parachuted straight into Lucas's company as the new Marketing Director. Within three months, her name became the one he mentioned most.

Whenever I brought her up, Lucas had the exact same excuse ready: "She was my college junior. It's tough relocating here. What's wrong with helping her out a bit?"

And now, here she was, helped right into my living room, wearing my husband's clothes, while the dampness in her hair carried a sweet, cloying perfume that choked the air.

"Lucas."

I called his name.

"Come here."