The bitter truth was that I could only cling to these scraps of evidence—things he'd been careless enough to leave behind—just to prop up the crumbling illusion that he still loved me.

Christina tossed her coat on the floor by her feet. "Nice place, right? Decorated exactly the way I like it."

My eyes locked onto the necklace resting above her V-neckline. My lips trembled.

"That necklace..."

Christina leaned in, eyes bright. "Your boss is pretty generous, huh? He gave it to me for my birthday. I heard it's super hard to get."

When Piers gave me mine, he told me it was a limited edition. He said he'd only managed to snag one.

Now I stared at the identical necklace around her neck, and suddenly I couldn't tell which one of us was the afterthought.

I turned to leave, and my gaze caught something at the entryway.

A large note was stuck to the wall. My pupils contracted.

It was Christina's class schedule, with several key courses circled in red pen.

Next to it were her exam times, down to the exact hour and minute.

Piers's friends always teased him for being a "daddy husband"—the kind who managed every detail of his wife's life.

He kept a list of my food allergies in his notes app. My monthly checkup dates were posted on the fridge. He even organized the pill cases for my family members.

I'd always believed it was instinct born from love.

Turns out it was a hobby.

Being a caretaker at home wasn't enough for him. He had to go out and raise another one.

"Want some?"

Christina ripped open a bag of snacks. "I love this beef jerky! The dining hall at school is awful. Once Mr. Harding found out, he started having the housekeeper make batches of snacks every Sunday night and deliver them to me."

She took a bite. "I just wonder if his wife knows about it."

I stared at the jerky in her hand. My nails dug into my palms.

Of course she didn't know.

I'd even thought Piers was the one who liked them. Sometimes I'd help the housekeeper make them myself.

"Miss Winfield, did you know that Mr. Harding and his wife have been together for seven years?"

"Sure." Christina blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. "So what? It's not like I want to marry him."

"He gives me money and connections. I keep him happy. Everybody wins."

She leaned closer. "Think about it—his wife's at home turning into a frumpy housewife, dealing with groceries and bills all day. What kind of excitement does a man come home to? I'm different. I'm young and gorgeous. He can show me off."

Her eyes lit up. "A little while ago, he took me to this wine-tasting event. Very upscale."

"Know why he brought me instead of his wife?"

I looked at her. I didn't answer.

"Because I'm the one worth showing off." She flipped her hair. "You guys probably don't even know what Mr. Harding's phone wallpaper is, do you? It's me."

"His lock screen, though—that's his wife." She clicked her tongue. "Tsk."

"That's men for you. Not a decent one in the bunch. They want the trophy on the outside and the stability at home."

I lowered my eyes. A wave of bitter irony washed over me.

"All right, head on up."

Christina waved me off. "Leave the luggage—I'll handle it myself. Thanks, sweetie."

I turned and walked out.

But her words had already lodged in my skull like a splinter, throbbing with every thought.

Seven years of marriage, and I had never once checked Piers's phone.

His wallpaper was me. I'd always known that.

But it had never occurred to me that a woman could live the way Christina did—young and pretty, and that was enough to justify wedging herself into someone else's marriage without a shred of shame. She'd laid it all out like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I felt sorry for her. I felt sorry for myself.

Most of all, I felt sorry for the tiny, unformed life in my belly.

When I started the car, all I could think about was every good thing Piers had ever done for me.

All those things I thought were mine alone. One of a kind.

I was a light sleeper, so he warmed milk for me every night before bed. He kept that up for seven years. He had a recipe folder saved on his phone, filled with nothing but my favorites: when to add the sugar to the sweet-and-sour ribs, how many minutes to steam the crab. He even collected our movie ticket stubs like a lovesick teenager.

How could a man like that not love me?

But he'd done every single one of those things for someone else, too.

He brought Christina meals. He memorized her class schedule just so he could see her between lectures. He took her shopping. He gave her the same gifts he gave me, all to keep her happy.

I blinked hard and swallowed the sting behind my eyes.

Three days later, Piers came home.

Kisses landed on my face one after another, trailing downward.

"Baby, I missed you so much."

His lips pressed against the hollow of my neck. "You've lost weight. Have you been skipping meals because you missed me?"

No one at his company would have believed this was the same man who never cracked a smile in the boardroom.

"I brought you something."

He produced a bottle of wine like a kid showing off a prize. "Your favorite label. I made a special trip to pick it up."

"How about we open it tonight?"

I stared at the bottle.

Every time he traveled for business, he came back with some thoughtful little gift, always exactly what I'd been wanting. I once asked him how he always knew. He told me he'd overheard me mention a bracelet while I was on the phone with a friend, and he'd kept it tucked away in his memory ever since.

But after seeing all those matching "surprises" at Christina's apartment, the wine just made my stomach turn.

Right this moment, was an identical bottle sitting on her counter, too?

His phone rang.

Piers glanced at the screen and silenced it.

It rang again. He silenced it again.

When it rang a third time, I said nothing. I peeled his hand off me and walked to the dining table.

Piers answered the call and stepped onto the balcony. A minute at most. Then he came back and offered a one-line explanation.

"Work stuff. An intern keeps messing things up."

I nodded. "Sit down and eat first."

I was ready to lay my cards on the table. After all, a decision had to be made about the baby sooner or later.

But just as I opened my mouth, his phone buzzed again.

A text this time.

He glanced down, and the color drained from his face. He shot out of his chair like he'd been launched from it.

"What's wrong?"

His voice came out clipped, urgent. "Something came up at the office. I need to head out."

Before he'd even finished the sentence, he was already pulling on his coat, fumbling for his car keys.

I watched his retreating back and spoke up. "Let Josie Parrish drive you. It's late, and you shouldn't be behind the wheel."

Piers nodded without protest.

The door clicked shut. I sat alone at the dining table and let a thin smile cross my lips.

Josie was my eyes and ears.

I wanted to know exactly what Christina was up to, dragging him out in the middle of the night like the place was on fire.

"Kate, that girl is pregnant."

Josie's voice came through the phone, dead serious. "That's why Mr. Harding rushed over. They met at the hospital last night. Now they're having dinner at a private restaurant."

"Are you okay?"

I loosened my fingers. They'd been digging into my palms hard enough to leave marks. I forced out a breath that I hoped sounded casual.

"Which restaurant?"

By the time I arrived, they were still inside a private dining room.

The door was slightly ajar, and Christina's voice drifted out.

"Mr. Harding, do you really love your wife that much?"

"She hasn't gotten pregnant after all this time. Have you... ever thought about getting a divorce?"

Silence stretched for a few seconds inside the room.

I stood at the door, fingers white-knuckled around my purse strap.

"Piers, if you two don't get divorced, and she refuses to accept the baby I'm carrying, then what? I'm serious. I want to keep this child."

Piers's voice was heavy with exhaustion. "Christina, stop this."

"I'm not doing anything."

She sounded wounded, aggrieved. "I just don't understand. What is it about her you can't let go of? Didn't you tell me she'd been with someone else back then? If she disgusts you that much, why won't you just divorce her?"

Every muscle in my body locked.

"When you're lying next to her, doesn't it eat at you?"

"Christina."

"Fine, fine, I'll drop it. But are you going to divorce her or not?"

"Not right now."

"Then when?"

Another stretch of silence.

I stood at the door, cold seeping through every inch of me.

I still remembered that night. Piers had called to say he'd been in a car accident and told me to hurry over. I ended up cornered in an alley for nearly an hour. My clothes were torn, but nothing worse happened. In the end, Piers was the one who called the police and got me out. He'd held me and told me it wasn't my fault, that it was okay.

I thought he truly didn't care.

But all along, it had been a thorn buried in his heart.

When no clear answer came, Christina stormed out, her heels hammering the floor like gunshots.

I pushed the door open and walked straight in.

Piers looked up. A flicker of shock crossed his face.

My palm connected with his cheek before the placating hand he'd raised could reach me.

"What you just said. Did you mean it?"

He blinked, and his expression shifted in an instant. "Kate, you're misunderstanding. She and I aren't like that."

"I saw everything, Piers. Are you really going to lie to my face right now?"

The certainty in my eyes drained the fight out of him. His shoulders sagged.

"I... those weren't my real feelings. I was just trying to calm her down. Let me explain. She's pregnant and emotionally unstable. I was afraid she'd make a scene. It was nothing. I didn't mean a word of it."

"Kate, don't you know how I've treated you all these years? That incident was so long ago. When have I ever held it against you?"

"Sweetheart..."

His voice cracked. He reached for me.

"I just wanted a child. She doesn't mean anything to me."

I stepped back.

"Two choices."

I looked him dead in the eye, detached, like a stranger watching from the outside. "Come home with me right now. Call Christina in front of me and end it. Completely."

"Or we meet at City Hall."

The words landed, and panic flooded his face. "Sweetheart! Listen to me. Christina's emotions are all over the place right now. She's carrying a child!"

"You know how badly I've wanted a baby all these years."

"Please. Just give me some time. I'll end things with her, I swear..."

I drew a long breath. "How long?"

"How much time do you need?"

"A month? Two months? Or are you going to wait until she delivers?"

I watched his gaze dart away from mine, and suddenly I didn't want to ask anything else.

I turned around and pushed the door open.

An hour later, I was sitting on a hospital bed in the OB-GYN ward.

By the time I walked out, the sky had gone completely dark.

Josie was waiting at the entrance, a document folder in her hand.

"Kate, these are the Harding Group's financial records from the past three years. Several transfers don't add up. I had someone dig into them. The amounts aren't small."

The day I mailed the divorce papers, Piers came home that very night. He'd been unreachable for seven days, but the moment those papers hit, he appeared.

He saw me packing a suitcase in the bedroom and snatched it out of my hands.

"What do you think you're doing? Where are you going?"