Chapter 1
Present
Zoe
I stand before the mirror in the closet, the ginger silk gown hugging my silhouette.
A quiet smile tugs at my lips. Months of early morning gym sessions flash through my mind, all validated by the smooth way the fabric now clings to my frame without a single fold out of place.
I smooth my palms down the front, ensuring the invisible wrinkles vanish.
My hair cascades over my shoulders in soft, wavy curls—the exact style he always touches when he looks at me.
I turn, scoop up my phone from the glass table behind me, and glance at the screen.
"Ugh, it is almost time."
Stepping into the bedroom, I take one final look in the full-length mirror.
Satisfied with the reflection, I nod and slide out the door.
The hallway is quiet as I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor.
As the car begins its descent, I run through a mental checklist of the evening's arrangements, nodding along as each detail satisfies my memory.
My gaze drifts to the polished metal wall, tracking my own reflection.
I smile at the woman looking back at me, but the expression instantly freezes.
A thought intrudes: What if Chris is with Sarai?
What if, as usual, he runs late for this, or simply fails to show up at all?
When I focus back on the polished surface, the smile has vanished from my face.
I draw a long, steadying breath to clear my head. A chime sounds as the elevator reaches the ground floor, the doors sliding open to reveal a wave of bustling noise. Stepping out onto the patio, I halt. The decorators I hired have brought my exact vision to life beside the pool.
"Oh my God, guys," I breathe, looking around the space. "This is very beautiful."
I walk over to the team leader, leaning in to press a light air-kiss against both of her cheeks. Clasping my hands tight against my chest, I fight the urge to giggle or squeal, forcing myself to maintain composure. "Is there something else you lot need to do?"
"No, no, we're all done," the team lead says with a reassuring nod. "We were just waiting to get your approval."
A sudden warmth pricks the back of my eyes. I gently touch my fingertips to my chest, blinking rapidly to keep a rogue tear from smudging my makeup. "Oh, you guys did so well."
She smiles, and I offer a parting nod. "My assistant will complete your payment tonight and add a bit of a bonus for everyone."
The announcement brings instant grins to every face in the crew. "Good night, ma'am," the team lead says, guiding her workers toward the exit.
Once the space clears, I take a slow look around.
The candles sit safe inside glass hurricane shields, their flames steady against the evening breeze.
I walk over to the table and sit in the opposite chair, a soft smile returning.
I purposely sent Nate and Elizabeth back to London early so that Chris and I could have the entire estate to ourselves.
***
An hour passes. The bright glare of TikTok offers zero distraction; scrolling has never felt like such a tedious chore.
I swallow hard against the dryness in my throat and dial his number for the third time.
The call rings out completely unpredicted, dropping straight to voicemail.
I drop my head back against the cushions of the chair, letting out a breath.
Reaching for the pitcher, I pour a glass of water and take a slow, agonizing sip.
My heel taps against the stone tile, the thin leather strap digging so hard into my ankle that the discomfort makes me wince.
I reach down to unbuckle it, then freeze.
"What if he comes now?" I ask the empty air.
I pull my hand back and resume scrolling.
***
Four hours down. Still, the phone remains dark.
No calls, no texts. I force myself to stand up to stop my head from lolling into sleep.
The moment my weight shifts, a sudden spike of pain shoots up from my ankles, causing me to stumble.
I quickly bend down, hastily unbuckling the straps and tugging the heels off my feet.
Stepping onto the bare tile, a wave of relief washes through my arches.
I drift toward the edge of the pool, wrapping my bare arms tight against my torso as the silk gown chills against my skin.
"Ugh, it is cold," I mutter into the darkness.
After a few minutes, I retreat to the table and sink back into my seat. Dread settles deep in my stomach.
He isn't coming. I know it.
Chris is a man who arrives thirty minutes early to any event he actually plans to attend.
But the last five years have rewritten every habit he ever had—not since Sarai entered the picture.
I sit there for another fifteen minutes, staring at the empty driveway, trying to find some shred of a doubt to benefit him.
***
My phone screen reads 11:55 PM. Looking around the patio, the candles have all burned down to pools of melted wax.
Only the warm light spilling from the sitting room cuts through the dark.
I shake my head at the absurdity of the whole display.
Pushing my chair back, I stand up, gripping the straps of my heels in one hand.
I march inside, heading straight for the intercom mounted on the living room wall, and press the buzzer hard.
Then I throw myself onto one of the wide, plush couches.
A moment later, the soft patter of footsteps echoes down the hallway.
One of the housemaids comes running out to the living room.
Normally, I ensure a warm smile accompanies any order I give my staff, never wanting them to think they are treated differently.
Tonight, my jaw is set too tight to manage it.
I turn my face away, my fingers interlacing until my knuckles ache.
"Give the food to whichever staff member is awake," I instruct, my tone cut and clipped. "And clear away whatever needs to be cleared outside."
I pause mid-instruction, my hand dropping to my stomach. Days and weeks of strict meal prepping, hours sweating at the home gym just to fit into this specific gown. A thick knot tightens in my throat, hot and suffocating.
"Leave the... uh, vegetable rice for me," I say, my voice cracking on the syllable. I take a sharp sniff, rubbing the back of my hand against my nose. "Just... leave the vegetable rice out. Microwave it."
I bow my head into my palms, waiting for some impossible miracle to change the night. I check my phone. 12:15 AM. Sucking in a breath, I press a hand flat against my knee to find the leverage to stand.
The front door swings open, and a burst of bright laughter trails into the foyer.
My husband steps through the threshold, a wide smile crinkling the corners of his eyes as he looks over his shoulder. He holds the door open wide, and Sarai steps inside right behind him, the two of them trading chuckles over a joke I didn't hear.
I stand frozen by the sofa, watching the easy, private world the two of them share take shape right in my own entryway. The space around me suddenly feels entirely foreign, turning me into an outsider in my own home.
The door clicks shut. Their eyes adjust to the low light of the living room and lock onto me. I shake my head, my gaze tracking over Chris—a man whose features match my husband's, but whose actions I no longer recognize.
A harsh breath escapes my lips. "I don't believe this."
"Hey," Chris says, his brow furrowing as he takes a step forward. "What's the problem?"
I march straight past him, ignoring his reach, and stop inches away from his brother's widow. My chest heaves. "I sent you a text specifically asking you to make sure he showed up—"
The words cut off. The more excuses I vocalize, the more pathetic the reality becomes. I look back at the two of them, then step away. "If you will excuse me."
Turning toward the stairs, the sound of hurried footsteps follows me. The familiar scent of his cologne reaches me before he even opens his mouth.
"Please excuse us for a moment," Chris calls back toward the door, his tone dismissive. "Let me speak to my wife. You know how women can be—mood swings and all."
My bare feet halt on the first step. I spin around, descending until I stand directly in front of him. Physical exhaustion wraps around me like a lead weight. I lift a finger, pressing it firmly against the center of his chest.
"Yesterday was our anniversary."
He opens his mouth to speak, but I shake my head, cutting him off before the tears can spill. "You couldn't even..." I don’t complete what I want to say.
Turning on my heel, I decide against the stairs and make a quick trek toward the elevator instead. He follows close behind, his hand reaching out to catch my wrist.
"You should have called to remind me," he says, his tone shifting to defensive. "You know Sarai had an appointment today."
I stand perfectly still, my arm rigid in his grip. "No, Chris. I do not know she has an appointment. Because as usual, you tell me nothing. You simply cancel our plans to pick up hers." I wrench my wrist free from his fingers. "I have to call to remind you of our own anniversary?"
"Zoe—"
"Why?" I snap, waving a hand toward his pocket. "You know what? Heck your phone."
I step backward into the elevator. When he tries to follow, I hold a flat palm up between us. "I do not have the strength to handle you right now. Just stay away."
My eyes close briefly as the sensor triggers. When I open them, the metal doors are narrowing. Through the shrinking gap, I catch his eyes, seeing the sudden flash of confusion and hurt behind them. Then the doors seal shut, erasing his face.
As the car begins to rise, tears spills over my cheeks, followed by a steady torrent. A single question echoes through the silence: Until when will you come second? The thought alone makes me cry even harder.