"She's just a young girl, innocent at heart. As long as she helps with your condition, can't you bear with it a little longer?"

Gradually, Theodore's symptoms grew milder.

Six months later, as long as Nanette was around, Theodore could sleep through the night.

To speed up his recovery, she moved into our home.

Whenever Theodore had to travel for business, he brought her along to every occasion. They were inseparable.

Within days, rumors swept through Harborton that Theodore was openly keeping a mistress under his own roof. The gossip was everywhere.

That night, Theodore's face went dark. He immediately had his PR team suppress the story and gave Nanette a stern warning.

But now, everything had changed.

The exclusivity I once held, the special place that was mine alone, had been shattered completely.

The private dining room door sat slightly ajar, and through the gap drifted the whispers of the waitstaff who had served our food moments ago.

"Mr. Morton's wife actually has bad breath! She looks so put-together. Who would've guessed she had a problem like that?"

"Right? Even rich people have embarrassing little flaws. You learn something new every day."

Behind Theodore, Nanette let out a sharp snicker.

Her face was smug, not even bothering to hide it.

Theodore listened to the chatter outside, then glanced at the expressions of his business partners. His face turned to stone.

He looked back at Nanette.

"Nanette. Apologize to my wife."

The smirk slid right off Nanette's face. Her eyes reddened, her voice cracking.

"Me apologize? For what?"

"She already slapped me across the face. What more do you want? For me to beg for forgiveness on my knees?"

Tears spilled down her cheeks in fat, heavy drops, her expression defiant.

"If you think I'm going to apologize, you're dreaming!"

"Didn't you tell me that as long as you were here, I could do whatever I wanted, say whatever I wanted?"

"Fine. If your word means nothing and you're just going to stand by while I get bullied—"

"Then from now on, whether you sleep or not has absolutely nothing to do with me!"

She grabbed her purse strap and headed for the door without a second of hesitation.

"Nanette! Don't you dare!"

Theodore's voice was sharp, but I caught the panic underneath it.

He closed the distance in two strides, took the bag from her hands, and met her tear-streaked face. Every ounce of authority drained out of him in an instant. When he spoke again, there was a coaxing softness buried in his tone, barely perceptible.

"Why are you crying? If you don't want to apologize, then don't."

Then he turned to me. His brow furrowed, his voice edged with impatience.

"Serena, she's just a kid. She doesn't know when to hold her tongue."

"You're going to scare her acting like this. Can you just let it go?"

I stared at his blatant double standard. The corner of my mouth twitched involuntarily. In the end, I said nothing.

Theodore watched Nanette settle back into her seat, then casually speared a piece of fruit from a plate and walked over to me.

He held it to my lips the way he always did, his voice dropping to something gentler.

"Have some fruit. Freshen up your palate."

"Don't be angry. You were the one who told me she was just a young girl, told me to be patient with her. So why can't you do the same?"

"Think of it as doing it for me. Don't hold it against her, okay?"

My chest felt impossibly tight, like someone had stuffed a wad of soaking-wet cotton behind my ribs, pressing the air out of my lungs.

He was right. He wasn't wrong. I was the one who had brought Nanette to him.

I was the one who gave her the chance to get close. I paved the road for her, let her seep into Theodore's life inch by inch until she had burrowed into his heart.

So on all those nights when I wasn't by his side, what had happened between them?

My stomach lurched violently, nausea surging up my throat. I stepped back and knocked his hand away, hard.

"I don't need it."

Theodore looked at my red-rimmed eyes and let out a helpless sigh, reaching out to pull me into his arms.

Nanette, standing off to the side, saw the gesture and cut in immediately, her voice laced with urgency.

"Theodore!"

"Your secretary just called. The client from Italy lands in fifteen minutes. We have to go now!"

Theodore's hand froze mid-air. He pulled it back, a slight crease forming between his brows.

A second later, the crease smoothed out and his expression returned to normal.

He looked at me, his tone flat.

"Serena, the client really is about to arrive."

"Once things settle down, we'll take that road trip to Napa. Just head home for now."

Then he signaled his assistant to escort the business partner back to the hotel.

The two of them walked toward the exit, one after the other. Nanette trailed behind him, the picture of obedience, but the moment she was past me she whipped her head around and pulled a face, her eyes glittering with naked provocation.

I stared at Theodore's retreating back and the words tore out of me before I could stop them.

"Theodore, do you really think I'll just keep waiting for you forever?"

He turned. The look he gave me carried a note of reproach, as if he thought I was throwing a childish tantrum.

"Serena, be good."

"I made you a promise, and I don't break my promises."

I stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the hotel lobby and watched Theodore shield the top of Nanette's head with his hand as she ducked into the car.

Long after the taillights had dissolved into traffic, I fished out a cigarette and lit it.

My phone buzzed violently. Vera Henson.

"Serena! That ungrateful snake Nanette, does she have a death wish? Check the video I just sent you. Now!"

What followed was a clip filmed inside a movie theater.

The lighting was dim, but I recognized his profile instantly.

His head was tilted toward Nanette, their lips locked together like neither could bear to pull away.

When they finally parted, the hand wearing his wedding band drew her into his chest and stroked the crown of her hair.

A fog rolled across my vision. Everything blurred.

I couldn't tell if it was the cigarette smoke or the acid burning through my chest.

So there was no Italian client. There never had been.

The whole thing was a performance. A script the two of them had rehearsed together.

In seven years, Theodore and I could count on one hand the number of times we'd gone to the movies.

Back when we first got together, he'd been a broke architect whose entire monthly salary couldn't cover the cost of one pair of my shoes. He always said movies were a waste of time. He could use those two hours to chase another project, get one step closer to giving me the life I deserved.

In all those years, we'd seen maybe two or three films, and every single one was a Marvel movie he picked.

Now he was ditching me with a made-up excuse so he could take Nanette to an animated film.

He sat beside her in the dark. Laughed with her. Shared popcorn with her.

And the moment the lights went down, he leaned in and kissed her.

The cigarette burned to the filter. A sharp sting bit into my fingertips, snapping me back.

I crushed it out and answered Vera's call.

"The video's gone viral. Everyone's saying you're so 'generous' you found Theodore a little side piece yourself..."

She didn't finish, but I knew exactly where the sentence was going.

The pampered princess of the Ashworth family, married beneath her station, and now supposedly hand-picking a mistress for her own husband. How deliciously ironic.

Half the social circle was probably laughing at me right now.

I drew a long breath and steadied my voice.

"Don't worry. I'm fine."

I hung up.

Then I dialed Dr. Swanson.

"Move Nanette's mother out of the VIP ward. Disconnect every machine and suspend all medication."

"And one more thing. I need you to find out exactly how far Theodore's sleep disorder has actually recovered."

3

The moment she stepped through the villa's front door, Wilfred Fox hurried toward her, his expression grim.

"Mr. Morton sent someone by earlier. He said he's taking Miss Dickerson to an exhibition tomorrow and wanted her to pick out a set of jewelry."

Serena's heart dropped. Her throat tightened.

"Which set did Nanette choose?"

Wilfred's voice was heavy.

"The emerald set your late mother left you."

A sharp pain tore through her chest, so fierce she could barely breathe.

That emerald set had been passed down through her mother's family for generations. It meant more to her than she could put into words.

When they married, Theodore had a custom display case built and placed it in the most prominent spot of her walk-in closet. He cleaned it himself on a regular schedule and forbade anyone else from touching it.

She'd once asked him why he cared so much. He said that whatever mattered to her mattered to him too.

He said he would protect everything she held dear.

And now he was taking the thing she treasured most and handing it to another woman.

The realization settled over her like ice water. It wasn't that the jewelry didn't matter. It was that she didn't matter to him anymore.

Her heart went cold, degree by degree, until there was nothing left.

She looked at Wilfred. Her voice came out so steady it didn't sound like her own.

"Make some trouble for Theodore. And have someone bring Nanette here."

She curled up in the rocking chair and followed the trail of breadcrumbs she'd found online until she landed on Nanette's secret social media account.

The earliest post dated back eight months.

I'm going to have him.

After that, the account went dark for a long time.

When it picked back up, it was six months ago.

The date of the post stung so badly her vision blurred.

It was her birthday.

He stayed with me until late. He said being with me makes him more relaxed than anything else.

Serena stared at the screen, her fingertips ice cold.

That day, she had waited from morning until night. All she got was a message saying he had to leave town on business.

She scrolled further. Every single post was dated on a day she had once looked forward to with her whole heart.

Their wedding anniversary. He canceled his date with her to be with me.

Right now, he's holding me, sleeping peacefully.

His so-called sleep disorder doesn't seem that hard to cure after all.

He told me I understand him better than she ever did.

Today, I belong to him completely.

The photo attached was of two hands, fingers laced together, against hotel sheets.

Every night he hadn't been beside her, every evening she'd spent alone wondering where he was, all of it finally had an answer.

She set down her phone.

At that same moment, over a dozen bodyguards dragged Nanette through the door and threw her onto the floor.

Nanette's eyes were rimmed red. She glared up at Serena, face twisted with venom, and screamed.

"Serena! You heartless bitch! Why did you cut off my mother's treatment?"

"I'm Theodore's sleep therapist. Aren't you afraid he'll be furious with you?"

Serena rose from the chair. She looked down at the woman on the floor and let out a quiet laugh.

"Furious with me?"

"What exactly do you think Theodore Morton can do to me?"

Nanette froze, clearly unable to fathom where that kind of confidence came from.

"When you decided to become the other woman and wreck someone's marriage, didn't you bother running a background check on your target?"

Nanette blinked, still lost.

Serena paused, her tone flat and unhurried.

"There is only one Ashworth family in Harborton."

"Three generations without a daughter. And in this generation, I'm the one."

"That means I don't have to compete with anyone. I don't have to scheme or beg for anyone's favor. Anything I want is handed to me on a silver platter."

Nanette's body shook uncontrollably. The color drained from her face.

She understood exactly what that meant.