Chapter 2

Eliza Hodges POV:

The clatter of glass in the bin was the final note in a symphony of destruction. Camden, his face still a mask of feigned concern, turned to Kai.

"See, darling? No drama," he cooed, stroking Kai's arm. Kai merely smiled, a smug, satisfied smirk aimed directly at me.

Camden led Kai away, their voices fading as they ascended the stairs. The house, usually so full of my silent work, now felt cavernous, hollowed out by their presence. I stood there, rooted to the spot, the broken glass a glittering accusation at my feet.

My gaze fell upon the intricately crafted glass bird that had once been the centerpiece of the sculpture. It lay on the floor, its delicate wings snapped, its head detached. This was the bird I had sculpted to represent our love soaring, free and beautiful. Now it was merely fragments, a poignant symbol of what we had become. I picked it up, feeling the sharp edges bite into my skin.

I walked to the kitchen, the bird cradled in my palm, and opened the bin. The broken sculpture lay there, amidst the breakfast scraps and coffee grounds. My hand trembled as I dropped the bird. A dull thud.

It was over. Everything.

That night, Camden didn't come home. His phone went straight to voicemail. I stared at the ceiling, the silence of the house pressing down on me, heavier than any weight. It wasn't the first time he'd stayed out, not by a long shot, but this time felt different. The air was thick with finality.

My phone buzzed, vibrating on the nightstand. It was Sarah, my oldest friend, her name a beacon in the darkness.

"Eliza, have you seen this?" she asked, her voice tight with suppressed anger. Before I could answer, a photo popped up on my screen.

It was Camden, front and center, on the red carpet of some exclusive club opening. But it wasn't just him. His arm was wrapped around Kai, their faces inches apart, their smiles dazzling for the cameras. The caption read: "Camden Dunn and Kai Hoffman: Public Debut of a Power Couple."

I took a slow, shuddering breath. Public debut. So, his "PR stunt" was not just a stunt. It was an announcement. A declaration of war on my very existence.

I sighed, a sound that tasted like ashes in my mouth. I couldn't stay hidden. The media would be vultures by morning. I had to show face, play the part of the supportive wife. One last time.

I picked up the black velvet evening coat I had bought for Camden last Christmas. It was expensive, luxurious, a perfect fit. He had worn it once, to a charity gala, before it disappeared into the back of his massive walk-in closet, replaced by something newer, flashier. I held it now, the fabric still carrying a faint scent of his cologne, a ghost of familiar comfort.

I drove to the club, the city lights a blur through my tear-filled eyes. When I stepped out of the car, flashes erupted, a blinding assault. Microphones shoved into my face, questions hurled like stones.

"Mrs. Dunn, your husband's new partnership... your thoughts?"

"Eliza, are you aware of the nature of Mr. Dunn's relationship with Mr. Hoffman?"

I smiled, a fragile, practiced mask. "Camden is a visionary. I fully support his business decisions." The words tasted like bile.

Just then, Camden emerged from the club, Kai clinging to his arm, a wide, smug grin on his young face. Camden spotted me and his smile faltered for a microsecond, then hardened. He didn't come to me. He tightened his grip on Kai, pulling him closer, shielding him from the barrage of questions.

It was a familiar pattern. Years ago, at a corporate event, a similar scene had unfolded. Camden had insisted I drink a celebratory toast, despite knowing my severe allergies to certain alcohols. "Just a small sip, darling! For the cameras!" he'd whispered, his smile tight. I'd obeyed, as always.

My throat had swelled, my breath caught in my chest. Panic had seized me. Camden, seeing my distress, had simply frowned. "Eliza, don't make a scene. Just breathe."

I' d collapsed, gasping for air, my vision tunneling. The last thing I remembered was Camden' s annoyed face, then the sterile white of a hospital ceiling. I had almost died. When I woke up, groggy and weak, his first words were, "You really embarrassed me, you know. Kai had to handle all the press." Kai. Even then.

I'd tried to apologize, to explain, but he'd just waved it away, angry and dismissive.

But that was not the worst. The worst betrayal, the deepest cut, had come silently. Two years before, when we had finally, after years of trying, conceived a child. I was overjoyed, picturing a tiny life, a new beginning. Camden, however, had been distant, his phone constantly buzzing with late-night messages.

"Bad timing, Eliza," he'd said, his voice cold, devoid of emotion. "The company is at a critical stage. A baby now would just... complicate things." He' d arranged everything without my consent, without even a proper discussion. He'd terminated the pregnancy. Our baby.

I remembered the searing pain, the emptiness that followed, a void no amount of work or art could fill. "How could you?" I had sobbed, clutching my empty womb, my world collapsing around me.

He' d offered no comfort, no apology. "It was for the best, Eliza. For us." His eyes, however, had been devoid of any genuine concern, flickering with a strange, almost nervous energy.

Now, seeing him with Kai, the pieces clicked into place with horrifying clarity. The "bad timing," the constant late nights, the sudden aloofness. It all made sense. He was already with Kai then. Our baby had been an obstacle to his new affair.