Chapter 1

Silas Grant posted a photo.

A woman's hand rested on a hotel pillow.

The silver Cartier bracelet on her ring finger glimmered under the bedside lamp.

I had visited four different boutiques to buy that exact bracelet for my wife on our third anniversary.

Someone commented in the thread: “Another one?”

Silas replied: “Someone else’s wife.”

I saved the screenshot into a folder named “Evidence.”

Then, I made three phone calls.

The first was to the company’s legal counsel.

The second was to the Ethics and Oversight Committee.

The third was to my father.

Sienna Vance had been married to me for three years.

She didn't even know my father's name was Arthur Sterling.

Tonight, she would find out.

1

The steak was sizzling on the platter.

As Silas Grant picked up his third glass of beer, his mouth started getting reckless.

“Hey, Asher―” He waved the glass in front of my face.

Beer foam splashed onto the tablecloth.

“You’ve been married to Sienna for three years now. Do you have any idea―”

He glanced at Sienna, a crooked smirk playing on his lips.

“Do you know just how passionate your wife can be?”

There were seven or eight people at the table, and the sound of silverware suddenly dimmed.

Brenda, a colleague sitting next to me, wiped her mouth with a napkin and looked down at her phone.

Sienna was stirring the dipping sauce in her bowl.

She swirled the sesame paste into a tiny whirlpool.

“Silas,” she finally spoke.

Her tone was like a teacher scolding a child who got a ninety-eight instead of a hundred.

“Don't talk nonsense.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

It was a look I hadn't seen at home in three years.

Silas clearly wasn't deterred by her “scolding.”

If anything, it egged him on.

He slid his chair half an inch closer to Sienna and draped his arm over the back of her seat.

“I’m just curious. If Asher and Sienna ever split up, who would be the first person she’d run to?”

He paused and winked at her.

“You know―the first person she’d want to sleep with.”

The restaurant was noisy, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out the soft chuckle Sienna let out as she lowered her head.

I picked up a slice of brisket with my tongs and seared it for eight seconds.

Then I placed it back on my plate.

“Silas,” I said his name quietly.

He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with the anticipation of a man waiting for a fight.

“Don't overcook the ribeye. It gets tough if you leave it on the grill too long.”

He froze.

The reaction he was waiting for never came.

The others at the table started talking again, and the volume returned to normal.

Some discussed real estate, others talked about stocks.

Brenda asked me about mortgage rates, and I spent five minutes breaking it down for her.

Silas sat across from me, finished his beer, and slammed the glass onto the table.

Sienna immediately refilled it for him.

That gesture stung more than his taunts ever could.

I’d known Sienna for six years and been married to her for three.

She had never refilled a drink for me.

When the night ended, Silas was stumbling.

Sienna held his arm to steady him as they walked out.

I stayed behind to settle the bill, which came to fourteen hundred dollars.

I tucked my wallet away and walked outside.

Sienna was standing by a taxi, ushering Silas into the back seat.

“I’m going to drop him off first,” she said, glancing back at me. “He’s wasted.”

“Okay.”

“Take your own Uber home.”

“Okay.”

She slid into the back seat and slammed the door shut.

The taxi’s taillights disappeared around the street corner.

I stood in front of the steakhouse and pulled out my phone.

There were three unread messages on WhatsApp.

All of them were voice notes from Sienna’s mother.

I played the first one: “Asher, Sienna mentioned your year-end bonus might be around eighty thousand? Her brother needs a new truck―”

The second one: “He’s about fifty thousand short. See if you can help him out.”

The third one: “We’re family, after all. Sienna told me you already agreed?”

I locked the screen.

Three years ago, when I knelt before Sienna’s parents to propose, her mother’s first words weren't “take care of her.”

She said: “The financial support must be at least two hundred thousand. Not a penny less.”

I gave them three hundred thousand.

After the wedding, Sienna’s brother took my car.

His excuse was that “his brother-in-law doesn't drive much anyway.”

Sienna stood by and said, “He really doesn't need it.”

That Buick was a wedding gift from my father.

I didn't get it back until seven months later, and all four rims were trashed.

That night, Sienna didn't get home until 1:30 AM.

I lay in bed, listening to the sounds of her changing clothes and showering.

She pulled back the covers and lay down, her back toward me.

“Why did a ten-minute drive take three hours?”

“Silas was really drunk. I had to stay and take care of him for a while.”

Silence stretched between us for five seconds.

“Asher―”

“Yeah?”

“You were very mature at the table tonight. Thank you.”

She patted my arm through the blanket.

Then she turned over, and within three minutes, her breathing became steady.

I stared at the sliver of light peeking through the curtains.

Something deep inside my chest cracked.

It was silent, but I felt it.

I got up quietly and walked to the living room.

I pulled our marriage certificate out of the drawer.

In the photo, Sienna was smiling sweetly.

She wore a white shirt that day, and I wore a blue one.

It had been windy outside the courthouse, and I had tucked her scarf in for her.

She had leaned over and kissed my cheek right before the camera clicked.

The photographer said, “That’s the one.”

The Asher in that photo had eyes full of light.

I closed the certificate and shoved it to the very back of the drawer.

Then I opened my phone and messaged a contact named “Dominic, Attorney.”

“Dominic, are you free tomorrow morning? I need to consult on something.”

It was 2:00 AM.

The reply came three minutes later.

“Anytime.”

I left the phone on the coffee table and sat on the sofa until dawn.