Chapter 1

1.

Leaving her studio in Manhattan’s SoHo district, Evelyn Reed was surprised to see her husband’s car. He was supposed to be taking his investor's sister to the hospital.

But seeing their hands clasped together, Evelyn knew. Her marriage was over.

The moment his eyes met hers, Graham Hayes’s body went rigid. He instantly let go of the other woman’s hand.

“Done with work? Get in, I’ll take you home.”

Evelyn pulled open the passenger door of the Mercedes S-Class and locked eyes with the girl sitting inside.

It was an enviably young face, full of collagen, with clear eyes that held a subtle hint of provocation.

“Oh, hi, Evelyn,” the girl said, her voice sweet with the effortless familiarity of an American girl. “I’m so sorry for taking your seat. I twisted my ankle at SoulCycle, and it’s killing me. Do you mind taking the back? I have the seat adjusted to a specific angle, and the doctor said it’s best not to move it.”

Nina Vance. Graham’s new executive assistant, and the sister of Caleb Vance, the heir to Vance Capital.

Her tone was full of apology, but it was as cheap and insincere as a Starbucks barista saying, “Sorry, I grabbed the wrong coffee.”

Evelyn’s hand was still on the door handle. Before she could speak, Graham’s voice cut in, sharp and defensive.

“Evelyn, Nina got hurt at the office today. I have to drop you at the apartment first, then take her to the ER at Mount Sinai. You know Caleb just signed the term sheet for our Series B funding. I don’t want him to think we neglect his family over something so minor. Just take the back.”

His tone was so matter-of-fact, as if Evelyn were the one being unreasonable, the one who was intruding.

…

Evelyn pressed her lips into a thin line, the absolute limit of her emotional control. As a member of the Reed family, her upbringing prevented her from screaming or making a scene on a public street like a madwoman.

“Of course.”

She spat the words out coldly and opened the rear door. Her fingers grazed the leather seat, the touch icy.

The car was filled with a warm, cloying scent―a mix of leather and some sweet floral fragrance. It was Jo Malone's English Pear & Freesia. It wasn’t Graham’s usual woody scent, nor was it a fragrance she liked.

The air inside the car felt frozen on the drive, the silence filled only by Nina’s voice, chirping like a tireless songbird.

“Wow, Graham, that little statue in your car looks so familiar. Isn’t that the KAWS figurine I sent you on Instagram? I told you it would look so artistic in here.”

Graham’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He glanced at Evelyn’s expressionless face in the rearview mirror and responded in a low voice, “I just thought it had a nice design.”

“And oh, Graham, the cologne you’re wearing today smells amazing. Is that the bottle of Gucci Guilty I got you? Your old scent was too serious. As a CEO, showing a little personality makes you more approachable, don’t you think?”

“Graham…”

Every "Graham" felt like a slap to Evelyn’s dignity as a wife.

A wave of irritation washed over Evelyn. She lifted her eyes and caught a glimpse in the rearview mirror of Graham turning his head to look at Nina. The detached coldness he usually showed her was gone, replaced by a hint of indulgence and… tenderness?

Seven years of marriage.

To the outside world, Graham Hayes was the perfect husband―calm, self-possessed, as precise as a Swiss watch. He hated noise, detested stupid questions, and always maintained the arrogant distance of the intellectually superior.

But now, in this confined space, in front of Nina, he seemed like a different person. That cold mask had cracked, revealing a man of flesh and blood, a man Evelyn hadn’t seen in a very long time.

Evelyn’s hands, resting on her lap, clenched into tight fists, her nails digging deep into her palms. She felt a profound exhaustion, not just from the day’s meetings, but from the seven-year power struggle. She turned her head to look out the window. Manhattan’s neon lights glowed in the dim twilight, a flowing river of light that couldn’t penetrate the darkness inside this luxury car.

“Nina, quiet down a little.”

Perhaps noticing the dead silence from the back seat, Graham glanced at Evelyn in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were closed, her brow slightly furrowed, her face pale.

“Evelyn’s tired,” he added.

It was a gesture that was supposed to seem considerate.

Evelyn let out a silent, bitter laugh.

Considerate?

If she hadn’t seen the corner of a black lace panty―not hers―peeking out from the half-open center armrest in the back before she got in; if she hadn’t seen the golden nameplate in the front storage compartment that read “Executive Assistant: Nina Vance,” she might have actually believed Graham was still a considerate husband.

But now, all of it felt like a poorly staged play. He was acting the part of a good husband while simultaneously playing the responsible boss, trying to deceive her with his two-faced performance.

The car entered the Upper East Side, where the streets grew wider and quieter.

“Evelyn,” Graham said suddenly, breaking the short silence, “there’s a major acquisition closing next month. I probably won’t have time to go to Miami with you for Art Basel.”

Evelyn opened her eyes, meeting his in the rearview mirror.

“Okay, I understand. I can take the team myself.”

Her voice was so flat it held no emotion at all, as if she were discussing what to have for breakfast.

Graham seemed surprised by her compliance, or maybe he just didn’t care about her reaction. He let out a sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted.

She didn't know when their marriage had become a collection of empty promises filled with “no time,” “some other day,” and “next time.” Now, he couldn’t even be bothered to invent more convincing excuses.

But this time was different. This time, Evelyn felt none of that familiar disappointment. Because she hadn't planned on him coming anyway.

The Mercedes slowed to a stop in front of a brownstone. This was their home, on 72nd Street, where every square inch was worth a fortune.

Evelyn pushed the door open and got out.

Just as she turned to close it, she saw something that made her heart stop.

The car hadn’t fully pulled away yet. Nina unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned dramatically toward the driver's seat. She planted a quick kiss on Graham’s cheek.

“Thanks, Graham. You’re the best mentor ever.”

Although the kiss was quick, something that could be passed off as a casual American social gesture, the proximity, the atmosphere, the look in their eyes―it had clearly crossed a line.

Evelyn’s pupils dilated. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the sharp pain instantly spreading through her entire body.

She stood in the cold wind, watching the black sedan’s taillights disappear around the corner. Only then did she realize her eyes were wet.

Back in the master bedroom, Evelyn didn’t turn on the lights.

She walked straight to the back of the walk-in closet, entered a code, and opened the hidden safe.

It didn't just hold priceless jewelry. It held the "treasures" she had collected over the past seven years―all the proof that they had once been in love.

Handwritten letters, anniversary cards, ticket stubs from their first trip to Paris…

A seven-year marriage of convenience.

Everyone said it was a perfect merger between the Reed and Hayes families. But only Evelyn knew she had truly been in love.

Graham had been consistent with her, at least on the surface. He didn’t stay out all night like those typical Wall Street scumbags.

On the contrary, he came home on time every day, occasionally brought her a bouquet of her favorite white roses, and even learned how to roast a turkey for her on Thanksgiving.

The year he loved her most, for her 26th birthday, he rented the largest screen in Times Square to flash “Happy Birthday, Evelyn.” And at the busiest intersection in the world, he got down on one knee and told her, “I love you.”

She had once cherished the embrace that smelled of sandalwood every night, thinking it would last a lifetime.

She never imagined that in this game of love, she would be the first to surrender, the first to be forced out.

With a trembling hand, Evelyn opened a slightly yellowed letter. It was one Graham had written to her the night before their wedding.

My Dearest Evelyn,

Tomorrow, you will be my wife. I’m looking at the moon outside my window, and I feel as nervous as a schoolboy, unable to sleep.

I know that to the outside world, this is a strategic marriage. But when I look at you, I know that God has been too good to me. You once told me that in our world, loyalty goes against human nature. But I am willing to bet my entire life on this vow, Evelyn. For the rest of my life, I will be loyal only to you.

The tears finally fell, one drop after another, splattering onto the paper and blurring his elegant signature.

“But you broke your promise, Graham,” she whispered into the empty room.

The seeds of doubt hadn’t been planted today.

A month ago, late one night, the doorbell rang. She opened it to find Nina propping up a drunk Graham.

The way Nina looked at her that night was full of defiance, the look of a victor. Though she said, “Graham had too much to drink and insisted on coming home,” her body was pressed tightly against his.

That night, as Evelyn helped Graham take off his suit jacket, she found a Bvlgari hotel key card in his pocket, along with an opened box of condoms.

In that moment, her heart had already died.

She had kept quiet, just waiting. Waiting for him to confess, or for her to completely give up hope.

Today was the end of that hope.

Evelyn wiped away her tears, her eyes growing cold and resolute. She took the letters, the cards, the ticket stubs, and fed them all into the shredder next to the safe.

Whirrrrr―

Accompanied by the shredder’s harsh noise, seven years of memories turned into meaningless scraps of paper.

The Hayes family had nearly gone bankrupt during the 2008 financial crisis. It was the Reed family’s massive capital injection that brought them back from the brink. In these seven years, she had used her connections and talent to help Graham solidify his position, even pushing the Hayes Corporation to new heights.

She had paid her dues long ago.

From now on, the name Graham Hayes would no longer be a part of her life plan.

Just then, her phone screen lit up. It was an iMessage from Graham:

Evelyn, Nina got hurt at the office, and I have to be accountable to Caleb. You know how important that funding round is to us. This is purely about maintaining a good relationship with a key investor. Don’t overthink it. Want me to bring home some late-night snacks? I can get takeout from Carbone, or pick up some of that Lady M you like?

It was the first time he had ever gone to such lengths to explain himself, his tone almost pleading.

In the past, she might have been touched, her heart might have softened.

But now, reading this hypocritical message, she only felt disgust. Whatever Graham was thinking, she no longer cared.

You don’t need to offer explanations to a dead person, and in her heart, this marriage was officially dead.

She had spent seven years learning how to be the perfect Mrs. Hayes. If even that couldn’t warm a heart of stone, then she wouldn’t force it anymore.

Evelyn didn’t reply. She dialed her assistant’s number directly.

“Hey, Evelyn, what’s up so late?”

“Check my schedule for me,” Evelyn’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “Besides the project in L.A. next month, wasn’t there also a gallery curation invitation from Berlin?”

“Yes, the Berlin gallery has been hoping you could go, but you turned it down before because you had to accompany Mr. Hayes to L.A…”

“Contact them,” Evelyn interrupted. “Tell them I accept the invitation. Change my travel plans. Next month, I’m going to Berlin.”

“Okay, should I book two tickets? Mr. Hayes…”

“No.” Evelyn looked out at the dark night sky and said, enunciating each word. “One ticket. One way.”