Chapter 2

I don't go back to the hotel. I go straight to the airport.

I buy the next available flight and return to the city where we built our life together.

The apartment is full of him.

Matching slippers by the door. Two sets of everything in the bathroom. Our fifth-anniversary photo on the wall.

I find a suitcase and start packing.

Nothing that isn't mine. And even the things that are—I only take the bare essentials.

I've just zipped it shut when the lock clicks.

Ethan stands in the doorway, disheveled, his tie pulled loose, bloodshot eyes wild.

He actually followed me back.

He sees the suitcase on the floor and panics. Three quick strides and his hand is clamped over mine.

"Quinn, wait—calm down."

"I admit I screwed up. But I never once thought about divorcing you."

I stare coldly at his fingers pressing down on the back of my hand.

"Let go."

He doesn't. Instead, he pulls me into his arms.

"No."

"That child was truly an accident. At the company celebration dinner, I blacked out."

"By the time I woke up, it had already happened."

"Then Vivian got pregnant, and the doctor said her condition made termination life-threatening."

"What was I supposed to do? Just watch her die?"

He pushes every ounce of blame onto accidents and impossible choices.

I shove him off and slap him across the face.

The crack echoes through the living room.

Ethan's head snaps to the side. Half his face blooms red instantly.

"The first child was an accident. What about the second one she's carrying now?"

"Did you black out and accidentally fall into bed with her again?"

Ethan has nothing to say.

He looks at me, and a flash of irritation crosses his face.

"Quinn, do you have to be this crude about it?"

"I already told you—you're my wife. You'll always be my wife. Most of my assets will go to you."

"Vivian doesn't want anything. She just wants a complete family for the children."

"Why can't you just be a little understanding?"

I'm so disgusted I actually laugh.

"Understanding?"

"Ethan, do you think now that you've made Regional Director, you're entitled to have it all?"

"What do you think this marriage is? What do you think I am?"

He drags his fingers through his hair in frustration.

"Then what do you want me to do?"

"Strangle a two-year-old? Push Vivian off a building?"

"Quinn, you never used to be this cold-blooded."

Cold-blooded.

So in his mind, the woman who refuses to welcome his mistress and bastard child is the cold-blooded one.

My heart goes numb, inch by inch.

My phone buzzes.

A text from Vivian.

A photo—her lying in a hospital bed, selfie-style, the logo of a private hospital visible behind her.

The caption: "I know Ethan rushed back to calm you down. I'm here alone on bed rest. I'm really scared, but I don't blame you. I just want you two to be okay."

Then a second message pops up.

A photo of a stock transfer agreement.

Ethan transferred thirty percent of his shares to someone named Lucas Carter.

The two-year-old's name.

I hold the screen up to Ethan's face.

"This is what you meant by 'most of my assets will go to you'?"

Ethan sees what's on the screen and his expression changes completely.

"Quinn, listen—Mom forced me to sign that. She said it was security for the child…"

I don't want to hear another word.

I grab my suitcase and walk around him toward the door.

"Tomorrow morning. Nine o'clock. The courthouse."

"If you don't show up, I file for divorce and send this agreement to your company intranet."

Ethan doesn't chase me.

Because his phone rings, and on the other end is Vivian's feeble, weeping voice.