Chapter 2

2.

"I took it off."

"I made that ring with my own hands. It's proof of our love. Why would you take it off?"

I gave him a flat excuse. "Keto diet. Water retention. It doesn't fit right now."

Miles's face relaxed. His smile returned. "I'll take it to Tiffany's to get resized."

"We'll see."

"What's that on the table?"

He pointed at the jewelry box. His expression lit up. "Claire, is that a gift for me?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Inside was a small platinum lump.

I had melted our wedding rings. I put the remains inside that box.

Miles was delighted. "What's the occasion? You never surprise me with gifts."

I felt nothing but a tired, cold disappointment.

"Today is our wedding anniversary."

Miles's face crumpled.

He scrambled to appease me. "Claire, I'm so sorry. The quarterly earnings have been brutal. How about we go out tonight? I can book a table at Alinea right now."

"No need. I already ate."

"Then let's go see the skyline. Walk by Lake Michigan?"

"I'm tired. I want to sleep."

Miles wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his voice coaxing. "Come on, Claire. We haven't gone for a walk in so long. I feel like you've been distant lately. I'm starting to worry my Claire is losing interest."

I removed his hands from my body.

Fifteen years. A dull, distant ache. Then―nothing.

He wanted cheap thrills. I wanted my dignity.

I was leaving. All of me. My heart, my body, my fifteen years, my reluctance to let go.

I was taking it all back. Now.

On the way out, Miles drove. He chattered about his day, trying to fill the silence.

I sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. I wasn't listening.

Because when I was buckling my seatbelt, my fingers brushed against something wedged in the gap of the seat.

A woman's lace thong. Very clearly used.

I shoved it back where I found it. I pulled out my phone. I took a picture. Calmly.

Evidence collected.

Not because I planned to stay and endure this.

Because I had already decided to leave. Confronting him now would just be a waste of time.

He would lie. He would deflect. He would make excuses.

I was done listening to lies.

This was it.

We reached the lakefront. Miles got out first and opened my door. "We're here, Claire."

I hadn't wanted to come. But this lake was where we used to go when we first got together.

It started here. It could end here.

We were walking when I heard a girl whisper to her friend nearby. "Oh my god, it's that CEO... the one with the ring."

"So hot. And so, so sweet."

Miles heard it too. The corner of his mouth twitched upward.

Then his phone rang.

He gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, Claire. Give me a minute. It's the board. I'll be right back."

"Go ahead."

"Wait for me right here. Don't wander off."

More hushed murmurs from the crowd around us.

I kept my face blank. I stood by the water and stared out at the dark, shimmering lake.

When Miles saw the caller ID, the grin he tried to suppress was unmistakable.

I knew that smile.

It wasn't the polite smile of a business call. It was the thrill of seeing his prey.

But I couldn't be bothered to expose him anymore.

It was cold by the water. I went back to the car to wait.

The car's display screen was still active. Miles's Apple CarPlay hadn't disconnected. His messages were still synced.

New texts were popping up, one after another.

The contact name was "Kitty B."

Miles: Miss me?

Kitty B: The nights feel so empty without you.

Miles: I didn't satisfy you enough at the office today, Kitty?

Kitty B: Not enough, Daddy. I want more.

Miles: Fine. Tomorrow. Work. My office. I'll make it up to you.

Kitty B: Hehehe. I'll wear the fishnets to work tomorrow.

The conversation spiraled from there. Unreadable. Filthy. Full of explicit language.

I stared at the screen. I felt a cold, clear wave of nausea.

Not heartbreak. That had shattered the moment I saw the ring.

This was disgust. Pure, physical revulsion.

I was trembling. My nails bit deep into my palms.

Miles was quick. About fifteen minutes.

He climbed back into the car, clutching his chest. He let out a deep breath. "I turned around after the call and you were gone. Scared me to death. Thank god you're okay."

I couldn't look at his sanctimonious face anymore. I stared down at my own hands.

"It was cold. I came back to the car."

"Yeah, of course. Wherever you're comfortable."

I looked up at him.

After reading those messages, that sentence hit differently.

Wherever you're comfortable.

The thong wedged in the passenger seat gap…

Did that mean they had done it here? In this seat?

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I threw the door open and vomited.