Chapter 2

2.

Liam didn't come home until late.

He must have gotten a heads-up from Chloe, because when he saw me sitting on the sofa reading, looking calm, he visibly relaxed.

I told him my mother missed Lily and that I was packing to take her to our old house in the Hamptons for a few days.

Liam didn't suspect a thing. He even carried my Louis Vuitton suitcase downstairs for me, placing a kiss on my forehead, playing the part of the perfect husband and loving father.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw it clearly. As our SUV pulled away, he turned, walked back into the lobby, and pressed the elevator button for "12"―Chloe's floor.

"Mommy," Lily whispered, her face close to mine. "Why is Daddy going downstairs? Don't we live on the 13th floor?"

I smiled, rubbing my forehead against her blonde hair, my voice colder than a New York winter wind.

"Because Daddy is going to help a little thief steal something. And soon, we won't have that daddy anymore."

The next day, Marcus handed me a manila envelope at the club, his expression grim.

"Evelyn, see for yourself what this bastard has been doing behind your back."

I took a deep breath and opened it. Inside was a thick private investigator's report, every page filled with irrefutable proof of Liam's betrayal.

Three years ago, my first novel hit number one on the New York Times Bestseller list. I left the celebration party early after too much champagne. At that same party, Liam met Chloe, who was just an intern. It took only one week to go from compliments to flirting, from late-night script discussions to a room at The Plaza Hotel.

Two years ago, I had severe morning sickness and couldn't keep anything down. Liam used the excuse of a research trip to the West Coast, but he was actually on vacation with Chloe in Bali. On his private Instagram group, with me blocked, he posted romantic photos of their "world for two."

One year ago, for Lily's birthday, he gave her a fairytale book he'd illustrated himself, calling it her special gift. But the report showed he had sold the digital rights to a streaming platform a month earlier for a low price. The payment went to an account in Chloe's name.

My heart felt like a hollow cavern being filled with the icy water of the Hudson River.

I wasn't just sad that he cheated. I was devastated that he would sell our daughter's love.

Just then, my iPhone buzzed. It was an iMessage from Liam.

Wife, are you settling in okay at your mom's?

I scoffed. On my screen, two things stared back at me: a photo Marcus had sent of Liam with his arm around Chloe on a beach in Bali, and this bullshit text.

I didn't hesitate. My fingers flew across the screen.

Not coming back for a bit. Mom signed me up for a writer's retreat. Leaving for a cabin deep in the Vermont mountains tomorrow, probably for a week. No signal up there.

He replied instantly.

Okay, darling. Relax and have a good time. I've got things covered at home, don't worry. Tell Lily that Daddy loves her.

Almost simultaneously, Marcus's assistant sent me a real-time photo. Liam was at Per Se, Manhattan's most expensive Michelin three-star restaurant, gazing lovingly at Chloe as he slipped a diamond ring onto her finger.

Chloe was beaming. And so was I.

A proposal, huh? Well, if you're going to propose, you should at least have a witness. As his legal wife, my attendance shouldn't be too much to ask.