Chapter 3

Kacy Gordon POV:

Kennedy's energy was electric—a storm of righteous fury contained inside the taxi. For fifteen years, we had been inseparable, sharing every triumph and every heartbreak. We navigated high school crushes, college anxieties, and the terrifying plunge into adulthood together. She knew everything about me. She knew about my decade-long crush on Cameron, the quiet longing, the joy when he finally noticed me two years ago. She had celebrated my happiness.

I knew about her, too. Her family's immense wealth, the pressures of her father's business empire. I knew about her arranged marriage to Cameron—a strategic alliance between two powerful families. She had confessed to me countless times that it was a marriage of convenience, not love. They lived in different countries, maintaining separate lives. She always said he was a good man for the family business, but emotionally distant. She had accepted it, prioritizing her family's legacy. She never loved him, not truly. She had even joked about him being her "business partner with benefits."

We had spent countless nights on video calls, sharing the minutiae of our lives. She would talk about the frustrations of managing her company's European division, the boredom of her marriage, the expectations of her family. I would talk about my marketing projects, my hopes for Cameron and me, our quiet evenings, our dreams of travel. We thought we were sharing our lives—but we were both living lies, unaware that the same man was at the center of both worlds.

Now, sitting next to her, I felt the sickening truth: I was the mistress she was hunting. The "other woman" she so vehemently despised. My entire moral framework, built on the shattered pieces of my mother's life, crumbled.

"Kacy, you're so quiet," Kennedy observed, turning to me. Her eyes, still red-rimmed but sharper now, assessed me. "Are you really okay? You've been off since I called."

"I'm fine," I lied, my voice wavering. "Just… processing. This is a lot, Kennedy. For you." The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth.

"It is," she agreed, then her expression hardened. "But I'm not letting him get away with it. Not after everything."

The cab pulled up to the Zenith Tower. The towering skyscraper gleamed, a monument to luxury and deceit. My heart pounded. This was where Cameron had planned my surprise. This was where he was also celebrating with his mistress. The words "mistress" and "30th birthday" echoed in my mind. He was celebrating my birthday.

"Stay here, Kacy," Kennedy said, her hand on the door handle. "Let me go in first. I need to scope out the lobby. You wait here. I don't want to drag you into the initial mess. I'll call you when I need you." She gave me a confident, almost triumphant smile. "Wish me luck. I'm going to rip him apart."

"Wait!" I cried, but she was already out of the cab, her heels clicking purposefully on the polished pavement. She strode into the opulent lobby, a warrior on a mission. A mission to expose Cameron Roberts, her cheating husband, and his mistress.

Me.

I watched her go, a cold dread settling in my chest. My hands were clammy, my palms slick with sweat. My breath hitched. What was I supposed to do? Tell her? My best friend, the woman who was about to confront her lying husband, that I was the very woman she was here to expose? The thought made my stomach churn again.

Our friendship, fifteen years of unwavering loyalty, trust, and shared history. Could it survive this truth? Would she ever forgive me? Would she understand that I had no idea? How could she? From her perspective, I was the enemy—the one who broke her marriage. Even if I was an unknowing participant, the facts remained.

I hated infidelity. It had ripped my family apart, left me with a motherless childhood and a deep, festering wound. And now I was standing here, poised to discover that I was living the very nightmare I had tried so hard to avoid. I was the mistress. A sickening, hateful word.

My mind screamed, but no answers came. Only a deafening silence filled with despair.

But then Kennedy spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to hate you, Kacy. A part of me still does. But I know you. You didn’t break my marriage—he did.” She paused, her jaw tightening. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Give me time.”

I nodded. Time. That was the least I could give her.