Chapter 1

When Oliver Hale proposed, he promised me a home. Three years later, on our second morning in the luxury condo he'd finally moved me into, I discovered that his childhood sweetheart lived upstairs, his first love lived downstairs, and his executive assistant of seven years lived across the hall.

Oliver owned all four apartments. The others were deeded to the women. The one he called our marital home was still in his name alone.

The building manager assumed I belonged to a residents' group chat called *Oliver Hale's Family Floor*. His friends, our mutual acquaintances, and the concierge were all members. I wasn't.

Lily Summers asked for an air-conditioning repair. Brooke Foster asked which floor Oliver would dine on tonight. His assistant, Natalie Reed, uploaded a photo of Oliver asleep on her couch, covered with the blanket I'd knitted for him.

On the night I arrived, Lily had written: *The legal wife has moved in. Behave yourselves for a few days.*

Someone started a pool on when I'd discover the truth. Oliver's answer was worse than anything else.

*Don't give her too much credit. She was thrilled just to get an apartment.*

I called my attorney instead of confronting him. Then I booked a flight to Monterey.

On my way to the airport, Oliver called. "They're important women in my life. I can't just abandon them. You're my wife. What's mine is yours."

"Then why does each of them own her place while I own nothing?"

He sighed. "I'll transfer yours eventually. It's just an apartment."

"I don't want it. I want a divorce."

At the gate, I found a three-year-old video in the chat history. Oliver handed each woman a key, tossed the fourth onto the table, and laughed when Lily asked what would happen if his future wife found out.

"She won't," he said, taking an engagement ring from his pocket. "I have a proposal to make."

The home he'd promised me had been a joke before he even knelt down.