Chapter 1

I sacrificed a scholarship to a top university for my wife, Chloe.

I gave up my own architectural ambitions to work for her father' s firm, a place where I was always the employee, never the son.

For five years, I was the perfect, accommodating husband.

It all ended with a box.

It was an ornate, wooden box Chloe kept on her vanity. She told me it held old family jewelry, heirlooms from her grandmother. She treasured it, and I was never to touch it.

One Tuesday, while she was out for her weekly "charity luncheon," I found the key she kept hidden in a perfume bottle.

My hands were steady. I wasn't shaking. I felt nothing at all.

I unlocked the box.

There was no jewelry. No heirlooms.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a small, discreet urn. It was silver, cold to the touch.

Next to it were two folded receipts.

The first was from a private clinic for a D&C procedure. The date was six months ago, a week I was away on a business trip for her father.

The second was from a cremation service.

My eyes scanned the paper, landing on the line for "father's name."

It wasn't mine.

The name was Leo.

Leo. The musician from her past. The one she told me was a stalker, a crazy ex who couldn't let go. The man I had served with a restraining order to protect her.

I carefully placed the urn and the receipts back inside.

I locked the box and put the key back in its hiding place.

When Chloe came home that evening, she kissed me on the cheek.

"How was your day, honey?" she asked, her voice light and sweet.

I looked at her, at the perfect smile she always wore.

"Quiet," I said. "I was thinking about family."

She stiffened, just for a second.

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I continued, my voice even. "Your parents are always talking about grandchildren. It got me thinking about legacies."

She forced a laugh, a little too high-pitched.

"Ethan, don' t be so serious. We have plenty of time for that."

She walked over to her vanity and ran a finger over the ornate box.