Chapter 1

Six months. That's how long I've been away on business.

Six months, and my fiancé moves into our brand-new penthouse. Alone.

Every month he Venmos me ten bucks. Writes rent for the wife in the memo.

Cute, right?

I thought so too.

Then his Instagram stories start getting weird. Candlelit dinners. Two wine glasses. Two sets of chopsticks.

My best friend screenshots it and texts me a laughing emoji. "Girl. Someone's about to steal your man."

I laugh.

Then I book the red-eye.

It's his birthday tomorrow. I'll surprise him. Perfect wife move.

I get to our door. Punch in the code.

Wrong.

Try again.

Wrong.

I'm pulling out my phone to call Ryan when the door swings open.

A girl.

Young. Twenty-two, maybe. Apron. Spatula.

She looks me up and down. Smiles.

"Aww, sweetie. I think you've got the wrong door. This is my place."

I freeze.

My brain lags. My mouth works on autopilot.

"Oh — sorry. Must've hit the wrong floor."

"No worries, hon. Just watch where you're going next time, okay? Don't wanna bother people."

She shuts the door in my face.

I look up.

1015.

That's my place.

My name on the deed. My taste. My six months of yelling at the contractor.

There is no wrong floor.

I call Ryan.

"Ry? Did you change the code? Why is there a woman in our apartment?"

Static. Then — ding.

The elevator opens behind me.

Ryan steps out. Both arms full. Shopping bags. Wine. Flowers. A tiny box with a bow.

He sees me.

His face drops.

"Chloe — babe, signal's bad in here. Let me call you back."

He hangs up.

Just hangs up.

The door flies open again. Apron Girl throws herself at him.

"Ry! What took you so long? I heard your voice from inside — ran right over to let you in. Aren't I good to you?"

She's hanging off his arm. Big eyes. Baby voice.

I haven't eaten all day. My stomach is a fist.

I look him dead in the eye.

"Ryan… *sweetie*. You'd better have a damn good explanation."