I've known Nathaniel Prescott for twelve years. We dated for ten of them.

Two months ago, we signed our marriage license at City Hall. The wedding is set for December. In the right Manhattan circles, people still call us a love story worth envying.

He's the heir to the Prescott Hotel Group. Handsome. Rich. And he always made time for me.

At least, he used to.

On the day we got our license, he held my hands on the courthouse steps.

"Quit the firm, Audrey."

I laughed. "Quit? I just landed the Tribeca loft project."

"You've been running yourself into the ground for years." He brushed his thumb across my knuckles. "Stay home. Plan the wedding. Let me take care of you for once."

I cried right there on the steps. I honestly thought I must have saved a whole village in a past life to end up with a man like him.

Looking back, I should have waited a little longer before deciding that.

---

It started with a phone.

We were having dinner at home. Seared salmon, a bottle of Sancerre, candles I'd lit because I still believed in that kind of thing. Nathaniel's phone sat face-down beside his plate.

I reached past it for my water glass.

His hand slammed down on the phone so fast that his wine glass wobbled. Pale gold sloshed up the side and almost went over.

We both froze.

"Sorry." He laughed and steadied the glass with two fingers. "Big news coming from the office tonight. I didn't want you to bump it by accident."

I picked up my water and took a slow sip.

"Nate, I know the difference between a phone and a glass."

"Of course you do." He flashed the grin that had worked on me since I was nineteen. "I'm just jumpy. The Miami acquisition is a mess."

"Mm."

I cut into my salmon. He cut into his. Neither of us said anything for a while.

Ten minutes later, the phone buzzed once. He glanced at the screen, and his face changed. It was quick, the way a door shuts quietly when someone doesn't want you to hear it.

"Bathroom," he said, already standing.

He took the phone with him.

When he came back, his hair was damp at the temples, like he'd splashed water on his face.

"Babe, I have to run over to the hotel. Something came up with the night manager."

"Now? It's almost ten."

"I know. I'm sorry." He leaned on the back of my chair. "It's a staffing thing. You know how they get without me."

I didn't argue. I went to the hall closet and got his navy overcoat, then held it open while he slid his arms in. I even fixed his collar.

"Drive carefully. The roads are slick."

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

He kissed my cheek. His lips were cool.

I smiled and waved from the doorway until his taillights disappeared down the block. Then I walked back to the table, pulled a napkin from the holder, and wiped my cheek.

Then I wiped it again.

My stomach turned. I didn't know why. I just stood there in the candlelight, feeling sick.

---

The next few days, he got busier.

He came home after midnight, smelling of a perfume I didn't own. Something sweet and powdery, like vanilla mixed with crushed flowers.

"New cologne?" I asked one night from the bed.

He was already halfway to the bathroom. "Hm? Oh. Probably the lobby diffuser. Marketing changed the scent."

"Marketing's been busy."

"Everyone's busy, Audrey."

The bathroom door clicked shut. A second later, I heard the shower turn on.

His phone wasn't on the nightstand. He'd taken it in with him.

Who brings a phone into the shower?

---

Three nights later, I woke up at two in the morning, and his side of the bed was cold.

I padded down the hall. The balcony door was cracked open, letting in a thin stripe of October air. His voice came through it, low and soft. It was a voice I knew very well.

It was the voice he used to use with me.

"Hey. Hey, don't cry. Come on."

I stopped behind the curtain.

"I know. I know I promised." A pause. A soft laugh. "Don't be mad at me, okay? Two more days. I'll come see you in two days. I swear."

Another pause.

"Yeah. Me too. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

He hadn't called me sweetheart in a year.

I stood there with my bare feet going numb on the hardwood, listening to him breathe out, slow and satisfied, like a man who had just fixed a problem.

I went back to bed before he turned around. When he slid in beside me, I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even.

He fell asleep in five minutes.

I stayed awake until the sky outside turned gray.

---

The next morning, I made coffee and waited for him at the kitchen island.

"Can I borrow your phone?"

He looked up from his tablet. "Why?"

"The engagement photos. The photographer sent the proofs to your email, remember? I want to pick the ones for the save-the-dates."

He hesitated for half a beat. Then he slid the phone across the marble.

"Knock yourself out."

I typed in his passcode. The same one he'd had for six years.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I tried my birthday.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I tried our anniversary, the day we first started dating.

*Incorrect passcode.*

I looked up. Nathaniel was watching me over the rim of his mug.

"You changed your password."

"Company policy." He set the mug down. "IT made all the executives update everything last week. Some security breach in the Chicago office."

"Huh. What's the new one?"

He reached over and took the phone back. He didn't snatch it. He was smoother than that. He just lifted it from my fingers like he was helping me.

"I'll send you the photos myself." He tilted his head. "Why are you being weird about this?"

"I'm not being weird."

"You tried three different codes, Audrey." His voice stayed warm, but his eyes didn't. "Do you not trust me? Is that what this is?"

I looked at him. The strong jaw. The expensive haircut. The tiny frown he'd perfected, the one that made me feel like I was the one who'd done something wrong.

Something rose in my chest.

It wasn't tears. It was a laugh.

It came out light and easy, and he blinked like he didn't know what to do with it.

"Of course I trust you." I smiled and patted his hand. "Send me the photos when you get a chance."

"...Okay."

He tucked the phone into his inside jacket pocket, close to his heart. Then he kissed the top of my head and left for work.

I sat there with my coffee going cold and watched the front door.

Fine, Nathaniel.

If you love hiding things that much, I'll let you.

But I'm going to find out exactly what kind of treasure you're hiding.

I used to think Nathaniel was the most careful man I'd ever met.

Especially around other women. He was stricter about it than I was.

There was a PR manager at the Prescott Group named Sienna Caldwell. He complained about her constantly.

"She found another excuse to come to my office today," he'd said once, loosening his tie on the couch. "Third time this week. Something about press releases."

"Maybe she actually needed something."

"In a skirt that short?" He rolled his eyes. "She dresses like she's going to a club, not a board meeting. It's embarrassing, Audrey."

"Don't be so harsh. She's just doing her job."

"You're too nice." He pulled me into his lap. "That's why I married you."

I'd laughed and kissed him.

Now I wanted to go back in time and slap that version of me across the face.

---

On Valentine's Day, he was up before seven.

"Big meeting." He held up two ties. "Blue or gray?"

"On Valentine's Day?"

"Investors don't care about Hallmark holidays, babe." He winced. "I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

I took the blue one from his hand. "It's fine. Work comes first."

"See? This is why you're perfect."

I looped the silk around his neck. Over, under, through. I tugged the knot snug against his throat. For one second I pulled a little too tight.

He coughed. "Easy."

"Sorry." I smoothed it flat. "Go get them."

The second the door shut, I was in the bedroom pulling on jeans and an old black coat he'd never seen. I ordered a car and told the driver to wait at the corner.

"Follow the silver Range Rover," I said when I got in. "Not too close."

The driver met my eyes in the mirror. "Husband?"

"Something like that."

He didn't ask again.

---

Nathaniel didn't drive to the office.

He drove to the Upper East Side and parked outside a limestone building with a doorman in a long gray coat.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

A woman stepped out in a white wool coat, blonde hair pinned up, red lips. Nathaniel jumped out of the car before the doorman could move. He opened the passenger door for her himself.

Then he bent down and kissed her.

I pressed closer to the window.

I knew that face. I'd seen it at the company Christmas party, smiling at me over a glass of champagne.

Sienna Caldwell.

The woman who dressed like she was going to a club. The woman who embarrassed him.

I laughed once, quietly. The driver glanced back.

"You okay, ma'am?"

"Never better." I sat back. "Turns out my husband really can't stand his coworker. He hates her so much he's spending Valentine's Day with her."

---

They went to a jewelry store on Fifth Avenue. I watched through the glass from the sidewalk. A clerk laid a diamond necklace on black velvet. Nathaniel lifted it and fastened it around Sienna's neck. She touched it and turned to him, glowing.

After that, lunch at a French place with white tablecloths. I took a table at the café across the street and ordered a latte I never touched.

At 12:40, I called him.

Through the restaurant window, I watched his phone light up on the table. He looked down at it. Sienna said something. He smiled at her.

And hung up on me.

Two minutes later, my phone buzzed.

**Nate: In a meeting, babe. Can't talk. Call you later. ❤️**

I stared at that little red heart for a long time.

So the Prescott Group held its meetings in French restaurants now. With wine. And a female coworker tucked under one arm.

A waitress stopped by my table. "Can I warm that up for you?"

"No, thanks." I didn't look up from the window. "It's already cold."

---

After lunch, a movie. After the movie, a boutique hotel on a quiet street in SoHo.

I watched them walk through the revolving door with his hand on the small of her back.

I was out of the car before I'd made a decision. My heels hit the pavement hard. I could already picture it. My palm cracking across his face. My fingers buried in that perfect blonde hair, yanking her down to the marble.

I made it to the hotel steps.

Then I stopped.

And then what?

He'd cry. He'd swear it was a mistake. She'd play the victim. And in two weeks they'd be right back here, just more careful.

No.

I stepped back onto the sidewalk. My hands were shaking, so I shoved them in my pockets until they stopped. Then I took out my phone.

Click. Them walking in. Click. His hand on her back.

I went inside and found a seat in the corner of the lobby, half-hidden behind a tall plant. I took a picture of the elevator display. Floor nine. I asked the bellhop, sweet as anything, what time checkout was for the suites on nine.

"Two p.m. tomorrow, ma'am. Are you a guest?"

"Not yet."

I sat there for three hours. My stomach churned the whole time.

---

At six, the elevator opened.

Sienna came out first, her arm hooked through Nathaniel's, the diamond necklace sparkling against her collarbone. He was laughing at something she'd said.

They crossed the lobby.

Halfway to the door, Sienna turned her head.

She looked straight at the corner where I sat.

She held my gaze for one full second. Then the corner of her red mouth curled up.

She smiled at me.

Then she turned back to Nathaniel and leaned into his shoulder like nothing had happened.

My blood went cold.

She knew. Maybe not that I was here today. But she knew about me. And she wasn't scared at all.

---

Nathaniel came home at nine with a dozen red roses and a small velvet box.

"Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart."

Inside the box were pearl earrings. Nice ones. A lot smaller than a diamond necklace.

"They're beautiful," I said.

"Not as beautiful as you." He sank onto the couch and loosened the blue tie I'd knotted that morning. "God, what a day. Back-to-back meetings. I didn't even have time to eat."

"Nothing at all?"

"Not a bite. They kept me in that conference room till dark."

I thought of the white tablecloths. The two hours. The way he'd fed her a bite of his dessert with his own fork.

"You must be exhausted."

"I was." He reached for me and pulled me down against his chest. His shirt smelled like vanilla and crushed flowers. "But the second I saw you, it all went away."

My throat tightened. Bile crawled up the back of it.

I swallowed it down and pressed my cheek against his heartbeat. Steady. Calm. A man with nothing to fear.

"I'll heat something up for you," I murmured.

"You're an angel."

I walked into the kitchen and turned on the faucet so he wouldn't hear me breathing. Then I opened my phone and looked at the photos one more time.

Floor nine. Checkout at two tomorrow.

His phone buzzed on the couch behind me. Then again. Then a third time.

"Who's texting you so late?" I called.

The silence lasted one beat too long.

"Just work, babe."

I smiled at my reflection in the dark window.

Sure, Nate. Just work.

Then why did Sienna Caldwell just send me a friend request?

I figured Sienna would keep pretending for a while.

I was wrong. She lasted less than a day.

The next afternoon, I sat on the living room floor with three hundred wedding invitations spread across the rug. Cream cardstock. Gold foil. *Nathaniel Prescott and Audrey Lane request the honor of your presence.*

Marisol, our housekeeper, appeared in the doorway.

"Mrs. Prescott? There's a woman here to see you. She says she works with Mr. Prescott."

I set down the envelope in my hand.

"Does she have blonde hair?"

Marisol blinked. "Yes, ma'am."

"Then let her in."

---

Sienna Caldwell stood in my foyer in a red dress that hugged every curve. The diamond necklace sat at her throat, catching the light from the window. She held a pink box with a satin ribbon.

"Mrs. Prescott! I hope I'm not intruding." Her voice was warm, like honey poured over ice. "I'm Sienna. From the PR team? Nathaniel has been so good to me lately. I just wanted to say thank you."

She held out the box. "Macarons. From Ladurée."

I took them and smiled so wide my cheeks hurt.

"How thoughtful. Please, come in."

Inside my head, I called her a few names my mother would've washed my mouth out for.

Out loud, I said, "Can I get you some tea?"

---

She didn't sit right away. She drifted around my living room, touching nothing, noticing everything.

Her gaze climbed to the crystal chandelier. Then it landed on our engagement portrait above the fireplace. Nathaniel's arms were wrapped around me from behind. We were both laughing.

She studied it longer than she should have.

"You two look so happy." She turned. "You don't come by the office much, do you?"

"Not really. Nate's always saying how busy he is. I don't like to bother him."

"Oh, he works so hard." She sank onto the couch and crossed her legs. "Some days he doesn't even stop to eat. I have to remind him."

"I know." I poured her tea. "Yesterday he was busy all day long."

The cup paused halfway to her lips.

Her smile stayed in place, but something behind it went stiff, like a doll whose spring had snapped.

"Was he?" she said.

"Back-to-back meetings. On Valentine's Day, of all days." I sat across from her and tilted my head. "You must have been swamped too."

"Mm. Very."

That felt good. Better than it should have.

"So you two work late together a lot?"

Her shoulders loosened. She'd found her footing again.

"All the time. Honestly, I think I see him more than anyone." She laughed softly. "He takes his coffee black with one raw sugar. Never white sugar. And he's obsessed with those little lemon tarts from the bakery on Spring Street."

"Is he?"

"And he hasn't been sleeping well lately." She lowered her voice, like she was sharing a secret. "He gets these headaches around midnight. Did you know?"

I did know. He'd been out on the balcony at two in the morning whispering *sweetheart* into his phone. That would give anyone headaches.

I picked up a macaron and bit into it. Raspberry. Too sweet.

This woman fascinated me. Stealing my husband wasn't enough for her. She had to sit on my couch and prove she knew him better than I did.

"You really pay attention," I said.

"Someone has to." She set her cup down. "Actually, let me help with dinner. Please. Don't treat me like a guest."

There it was. She wanted to be in my kitchen. In my life.

I thought about it for two seconds.

"Marisol," I called. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off?"

Marisol looked between us, then nodded and slipped out.

---

In the kitchen, I opened the pantry and pulled out a wicker basket. Carrots, beets, and leeks from the farmers market, still caked in dark, damp soil.

I set it in Sienna's arms.

"Since you're so eager to help, would you mind washing these?"

She stared down at the basket. A clump of dirt rolled off a beet and landed on her red dress.

She didn't move.

"Oh, and the sink sprayer sticks a little," I added. "You have to really push it."

"I..." Her manicured nails curled around the wicker. "Sure. Of course."

"You're two years older than me, right?" I leaned against the counter. "So I'm sure you're much better at taking care of people. No wonder Nate trusts you so much."

Her face went blotchy pink, from her neck all the way to her hairline.

She opened her mouth. Shut it. Her jaw worked like she was chewing glass.

Then she turned to the sink and yanked the faucet on.

I watched her scrub mud off a leek with her lips pressed into a thin white line. She wanted to scream at me. She wanted to throw that basket at my head.

She didn't dare.

For the first time in days, I hummed while I cooked.

---

At six-thirty, the front door opened.

"Babe? Something smells amazing—"

Nathaniel stopped in the kitchen doorway.

He saw me at the stove. Then he saw Sienna at the sink, her sleeves pushed up, dirt under her nails.

The color left his face so fast I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

I'd known this man for twelve years. I had never seen him look like that. Like someone had pulled the floor out from under his expensive shoes.

I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over.

"Surprise!" I kissed his cheek. "Aren't you happy?"

His eyes jumped from me to her and back.

"I— Audrey, this is— She's—"

"Sienna came to thank you for being such a great boss." I squeezed his arm. "Isn't that sweet? She insisted on staying to help. She's so warm, Nate. I see why you like working with her."

Sienna turned off the water. "Hi, Nathaniel."

He swallowed hard. "Hi."

That was all he managed. One word.

I let him suffer three more seconds.

"I'll go pick a wine," I said brightly. "Something red. Sienna, you like red, don't you?"

I didn't wait for her answer.

On my way to the cellar stairs, I passed through the living room. I paused by the bookshelf and reached behind a row of architecture books. My fingers found the small black recorder I'd set up last week.

I pressed the button. A tiny green light blinked on.

Then I walked down the stairs and took my sweet time choosing a bottle.

---

When I came back up fifteen minutes later, Sienna was gone.

"She had to leave," Nathaniel said. He was setting the table, his voice smooth again. "Some emergency with her sister."

"What a shame. She didn't even get to eat."

"Yeah." He came over and took the wine from me. "Hey. You didn't have to entertain her like that. That was really kind."

"She's your coworker. Of course I was kind."

He smiled. That old, easy smile. Like nothing had happened.

---

That night, for the first time in months, he sat on the rug and helped me with the invitations.

He licked envelopes. He pressed gold seals onto the backs. He read the names out loud and made jokes about his Aunt Celeste.

Then he pulled me back against his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I'm going to make you so happy, Audrey," he murmured into my hair. "I promise. For the rest of our lives."

Vanilla and crushed flowers.

It was on his collar. On his neck. On the hands holding me.

My stomach rolled. I pressed my lips together until the feeling passed.

I wanted to turn around and ask him one simple question.

*When you held her in the kitchen after I left, did you promise her the same thing?*

But I didn't.

Not yet.

Exposing them now would be too easy. Too merciful. These two deserved much worse than a scene.

I leaned into him and closed my eyes.

"I know you will, Nate."

Downstairs, behind the books, a little green light was still blinking.

And I had a feeling that whatever it had caught in those fifteen minutes would change everything.