Chapter 1

1.

On my seventh wedding anniversary, I cut my book signing in Brooklyn short, rushing back to our penthouse on the Upper East Side.

My daughter, Lily, peeked out from the study, running towards me and waving a color printout.

"Mommy! Look! It's the book cover Daddy drew for Chloe! He said it's a secret surprise!"

I froze, forcing a smile. "Honey, who's Chloe?"

"The new neighbor who just moved in downstairs. Daddy said she's going to be even more famous than you and win a Pulitzer Prize!"

My stomach dropped to the floor.

Liam had mentioned it last weekend. "An NYU intern moved in downstairs, seems to have a lot of potential." I didn't think anything of it then. I was wrong.

On the kitchen island, a pot held the Beef Bourguignon our nanny had slow-cooked for four hours.

"Lily, sweetie, be a good girl and go play with your Legos, okay? Mommy's just going to take some food downstairs for Chloe, to congratulate her on her new book."

...

Now, I was standing in front of apartment 12B. The door opened to a young woman in a silk nightgown, her face flushed with a guilty, post-coital glow. When she saw me, her eyes filled with panic.

"Evelyn? Oh, God... Mrs. Bennett? What are you doing here?"

She clutched the doorframe, like a startled deer.

I immediately spotted them on the antique console table in the entryway: the limited-edition Air Jordans I had handpicked for Liam, tossed casually next to a pair of pink high heels.

He’d said he was taking those shoes to the specialty shop in SoHo for cleaning this morning.

A chill ran down my spine, but I kept a pleasant smile on my face. "Lily told me Liam is helping you plan your new book? Congratulations."

"No, no! It's not... I mean..." Chloe's face went white as a sheet, and she waved her hands frantically. "Mr. Bennett is just... he's just giving me some guidance."

Guidance. The kind of guidance that lasts late into the night and ends up in her apartment?

My gaze drifted past her to the desk in the living room. A manuscript lay open next to a fountain pen―the one-of-a-kind Montblanc Writers Edition I had a friend bid on for me at an auction in Hamburg. I gave it to Liam on our anniversary.

He had held me, his voice thick with emotion. "Evelyn, this is the best gift I've ever received. I'll use it to write you the most beautiful love letters in the world."

Now, that pen was sitting on a strange woman's desk.

And the title of that manuscript―Star-dusted Whispers―was the working title for my next suspense novel.

I held out the container in my hands, my smile flawless. "Don't be nervous. I just came to bring you some stew. Liam is always telling me what a rising star you are."

Chloe took the container, flattered. But as she raised her hand, a Tiffany & Co. platinum bracelet, identical to the one I was wearing, stung my eyes.

"That bracelet..." I feigned curiosity.

When Liam gave it to me, he said he had a designer friend custom-make it. One of a kind. I even posted it on Instagram with the caption: "A one-of-a-kind love for a one-of-a-kind woman."

Chloe instinctively tried to hide her wrist, but then, as if remembering something, she straightened up, a hint of defiance in her eyes.

"Oh, this? A special friend gave it to me. He said my wrist was made for it." She paused, adding, "It's custom. He says I'm his muse."

So, his "one of a kind" was mass-produced. My "special" could be easily copied and pasted for someone else.

I nodded and chuckled lightly. "It suits you."

With that, I turned and walked away, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for the underground garage.

I didn't go home. Instead, I called my uncle, Marcus Vance, the CEO of Sterling & Stone, the largest publishing house in the country.

"Marcus, that Editor-in-Chief position we were saving for Liam? Cancel it. And get me the best divorce lawyer in New York. I want the meanest one you can find, fresh out of Harvard Law."

"Yes, he's cheating on me."