Chapter 2

2.

I could lie to my son about the "overtime," but I couldn't lie to myself.

I called another secretary at the office to confirm. Leopold had left early today.

After tucking Aidan into bed, I curled up on the sofa. A tear escaped, and I wiped it away aggressively.

At two in the morning, Leopold finally strolled in.

Under the dim hallway light, I saw him beaming. He didn't look tired at all.

I felt a moment of vertigo.

His smile looked exactly like the one the young man wore ten years ago when he held my hand and wouldn't let go.

When did it all change?

Leopold froze when he saw me on the sofa. Then, he put on his usual doting smile.

"Sienna, why are you still up?"

I took a deep breath. "Leopold, do you know what day it is?"

"Today?"

His expression shifted. He reflexively reached back to rub the nape of his neck.

It was a subconscious habit of his when he was nervous.

I saw right through him as he scrambled to piece together a plausible lie.

He slapped his forehead, his regret looking far too staged.

"Sienna, I'm so sorry. I had to meet an important client flying in from London. It was crucial for the firm."

I let out a cold laugh and stood up, stepping into his space. "Then why didn't you answer my calls?"

He instinctively patted his pockets, a forced smile on his face. "I was discussing details with the client the whole time. I didn't check my phone. It probably died."

I stared at his panicked face. My gaze dropped to the inside of his collar.

There was a brown smudge―a trace of chocolate cream.

My stomach cramped violently. A bitter taste rose in my throat.

"I'm really sorry, Sienna. I'll clear my schedule tomorrow to spend the whole day with Aidan."

"Fine," I nodded, fighting back the bile.

"The client is important. A birthday can be rescheduled. A dead phone is understandable."

I paused, then spoke the name clearly. "What about the tonics you ordered for Bianca?"

Leopold's lips quirked. His Adam's apple bobbed.

His voice rose, thick with the indignation of a man wrongly accused.

"Where is your head at? Bianca was working late with the project team."

"I'm the boss. I ordered some food to reward my hardworking staff. Isn't that normal?"

He took a step forward and grabbed my arms. His voice turned low and accusatory.

"Sienna, we've known each other for fifteen years. We've been together for eleven."

"Our son is six years old. We've been through everything together. Don't you know what kind of man I am?"

He saw the divorce papers on the coffee table and his chest heaved. "All this over a takeout order?"

"You're going to throw away everything I've done for you and this family over one delivery? How can you not have even the basic amount of trust in me?"

Yes, eleven years of history. How could there be no trust?

I looked at this face, both familiar and alien. I watched his performance of forced calm and manufactured grief.

I wanted to lie to myself too.

I wanted to believe in the important client, the dead phone, and the midnight tonics.

But my logic was screaming.

Everything about Leopold was a lie―except for his silver tongue.