Chapter 1

1.

On our seventh wedding anniversary, I found a first-class ticket to Reykjavik buried deep in Damon's nightstand.

I thought it was a surprise for me―after all, it was the number one honeymoon spot on the bucket list we made when we were dating.

But as I waited late into the night, all I got was a short iMessage from him: "Company crisis. Have to fly to the West Coast. Don't wait up."

At 3 a.m., unable to sleep, I saw Cora's Instagram story.

She was Damon's first love, the one that got away. The college classmate he always insisted was "just a friend."

【#BucketList #Soulmate. The wish I made when I was 18, finally came true with someone special. ??】

The photo was a silhouette of her and Damon kissing deeply in the snow, under the Northern Lights.

I didn't get hysterical like I thought I would. I didn't cry, and I didn't blow up his phone like a crazy person.

After chasing him for so many years, in that moment, I just felt tired. More tired than I had ever been in my life.

…

When Damon came back, I had just placed the last dish on the table.

Cajun Gumbo―with a lethal dose of cayenne pepper.

I used to love spicy food, but Damon was the type to find black pepper too hot. To accommodate his bland palate, our table was always filled with boring baked chicken breast and mashed potatoes.

But now? Fuck being a Stepford Wife.

Damon tossed a Tiffany-blue box onto the table, his movements a bit stiff.

It was the pink diamond necklace―the one I had glanced at for a few seconds in a Fifth Avenue window three months ago.

"Happy seventh anniversary, Babe," his voice was hoarse from a hangover. "That merger was hell… I'm sorry."

I kept slicing the spicy sausage on my plate, the sharp smell of chili making him frown.

"Uh-huh," I said without even looking up.

Silence stretched across the table. The only sound was the harsh scrape of a fork on a porcelain plate.