Chapter 1

The charity gala was like every other Dallas event. Too much champagne, too many fake smiles. Savvy Walker nursed a glass of water. Her husband, Carter Ashton, was across the room, schmoozing. He was good at it. A self-made tech billionaire from Austin, he knew how to work a crowd. Their marriage was an alliance, a deal. Her family, the Walkers, old Texas oil money, now slightly tarnished. His, new tech money, needing legitimacy. He was emotionally unavailable, but discreet. That’s what their circle called a "good" husband. Not like her father, Judge Alistair Walker, whose affairs were legendary and messy. Carter was just… absent. Even when he was in the same room.

Later that night, in their sterile, modern mansion, Savvy couldn’t sleep. Carter was in his home office, probably working. Or something else. A nagging feeling pushed her. She picked up his tablet, left carelessly on the bedside table. His messages were open. A thread with "BLH." Brooke Lynn Hayes. An intern at Ashton Innovations. “Tonight was amazing. You’re incredible.” “Can’t wait to see you again, away from… her.” Photos. Brooke Lynn, young, pretty, beaming at Carter in a way Savvy hadn’t seen him look at anyone. At her. The dates stretched back months. A cold fist clenched Savvy’s stomach. So much for discreet.

A few nights later, the betrayal still raw, Savvy found herself at an Austin music festival. She didn’t belong. Too dressed up, too lost. The music was loud, a throbbing bass she felt in her bones. She drank tequila, fast. Then she saw him. Rhys Donovan. On a small stage, guitar in hand, voice like smoky velvet. Charismatic. Young. Their eyes met. Later, a blur of more drinks, dancing too close, his hand on her back. His cheap motel room. Passion. Desperation. She woke up before dawn, the room smelling of him and stale beer. He was asleep, beautiful in the dim light. Panic hit her. She dressed quickly, pulled out a wad of cash from her purse. Five hundred dollars. She left it on the nightstand, next to his worn leather wallet. A transaction. That’s all it was. She slipped out, didn't look back.

Back in Dallas, the weight of Carter’s affair pressed down. She’d married him for stability. Her family’s name was in tatters after her father’s scandals and bad investments. Carter was supposed to be different. Reliable. Safe. Now, he was just like her father. The same lies, the same deceit. History repeating itself. The pain was a dull ache, familiar and deep. She thought of her mother, her quiet suffering. Savvy wouldn’t be her mother.

The next afternoon, at a luncheon for some pointless committee, Savvy saw her. Tiffany. Her father’s latest. Young enough to be Savvy’s sister. Clinging to Judge Walker’s arm, dripping in jewels he probably couldn’t afford anymore. Tiffany simpered at Savvy. “Savvy, darling! So good to see you.” Savvy’s smile was tight. “Tiffany.” Disgust rose, bitter and hot. Men in their world. Predictable.

That evening, Savvy was in her walk-in closet. The dress she’d worn to the music festival. It smelled faintly of Rhys. She needed to get rid of it. She bundled it into a black trash bag, shoved it deep into the bin at the back of the closet. Evidence. Just as she closed the closet door, Carter walked in. He rarely came into her wing of the house. “There you are,” he said, his voice flat. He held out a small, velvet box. “For you. From New York.” A diamond bracelet. Exquisite. Cold. A guilt gift, no doubt. “Thank you, Carter,” she said, her voice equally flat. “It’s lovely.” She put it on. It felt like a shackle.

“How was New York?” Savvy asked, watching him. He loosened his tie. “Productive. Meetings.” Vague. Always vague. He turned, and she saw it. A faint scratch, just below his ear, partially hidden by his collar. Long, like a fingernail. Not hers. Brooke Lynn’s, probably. A small, twisted feeling curled inside her. Not satisfaction, exactly. More like… equilibrium. He had his secrets. Now, she had hers. The score was even. Or maybe, just maybe, she was finally playing his game.