Chapter 1

In the eighth year of my marriage to Layla, I found a receipt in her coat pocket. She had spent seventy thousand dollars on a luxury men's watch.

That seventy thousand dollars represented every penny of our savings.

When I called her, she snapped at me. "I bought that watch for my best friend. It is just seventy thousand, Jaxson. Do you really have to be this pathetic and angry?"

I hung up and saw her across the street. She was wrapped in a deep, passionate kiss with a man. That man was wearing the watch.

For eight long years, I had given my heart to a piece of human trash.

1.

The timestamp on the receipt was ten o'clock last night.

It was a Rolex, priced at exactly $70,800.

When I pulled that slip of paper from Layla's pocket, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.

But her signature was right there at the bottom. It was unmistakably her handwriting.

She was supposed to be working late last night. She shouldn't have had any time to go shopping.

Unless, of course, she had lied to me.

But why would she lie? I frantically dialed her number.

"Layla, did you buy a watch yesterday?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"Yeah, so what?" she replied, sounding completely indifferent.

We weren't rich. We had been married for eight years, and I had spent every night running a late-night food truck to save that money. It was our future.

I squeezed my phone until my knuckles turned white. "Where did the money come from? And who is it for?"

I didn't expect my question to set off her temper. "Why are you interrogating me like a criminal?"

"Because it's my business!" she yelled.

"You're my wife. Of course I'm asking. Our entire life savings are in that account. Did you forget we were supposed to put a down payment on a house next month?"

A terrible feeling settled in my gut, making my tone sharper.

Predictably, her next words were like a bucket of ice water over my head.

"I bought it for my best friend. It's just seventy grand, Jaxson. Stop being so dramatic."

"You can just work a few more years and make it back. We'll buy the house later," she added.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

She had drained our entire life savings for a friend's gift.

And she expected me to just walk away from the house we had already toured. We had already put down a holding deposit!

Before I could say another word, she hung up on me.

When I tried to call back, the line went straight to voicemail.

A cold chill ran through my veins.

Every night at six, I went out to man the grill, working like a dog until dawn.

I did it happily because I thought we were building a home of our own. I thought we were finally done with renting.

But she had just blown everything I worked for on a whim.

I was beyond furious. I headed downstairs, intending to find her.

But as soon as I stepped outside, I saw her.

She was stepping out of a sleek BMW. A younger man climbed out of the driver's seat.

He walked over and pulled her into his arms. They were whispering and giggling like teenagers.

I saw it clearly then. The man was wearing the Rolex.

Layla's "best friend" was nothing more than her secret lover.

Fury boiled in my chest. I wanted to charge over there and scream.

But then they started kissing. His hands were wandering all over her body.

I felt like my lungs were going to explode from the pressure.

However, I stopped myself. I didn't charge.

Impulse is a devil. I needed to be cold. I needed to be smart.