Chapter 4

The dining room felt like a mausoleum. The table was long enough to seat twelve, but tonight, only two places were set. The crystal chandelier cast harsh, glittering light over the silverware.

Bentley sat at the far end, his attention focused on the medium-rare steak on his plate. He had actually come home for dinner. A rare occurrence lately.

Chloe sat at the other end, her food untouched. She watched him cut his meat, the knife sawing back and forth with mechanical precision. The silence between them was thick, broken only by the clink of metal on china.

She couldn't take it anymore. The quiet was suffocating her.

"Bentley."

He didn't look up. "Hmm?"

"I asked you a question." Her voice was trembling, but she forced the words out. "Do you love me?"

Bentley's knife paused mid-cut. He looked up, his expression blank. "What kind of question is that? We've been married for three years."

"It's a simple question." Chloe's hands gripped the edge of the table. "Do you love me? Even for a second? When you look at me, do you see me? Or do you see someone else?"

Bentley dropped his knife. It clattered against the plate. He picked up his napkin and wiped his mouth, his movements deliberate. "Chloe, you're being dramatic. My hand is tired from work, and you're upset about your injury. Don't start this."

"Answer me," she pressed, her voice rising. "I want the truth. Even if it's a lie, just say it."

Before Bentley could respond, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen. His entire demeanor changed. The hard line of his shoulders softened. The irritation in his eyes melted away, replaced by a warmth that made Chloe's stomach drop.

He picked up the phone and stood up, turning his back to her as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Hey," he said softly. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

Chloe watched him. She watched the way he hunched slightly, protective. She listened to the low, soothing murmur of his voice. It was the voice he used on something precious. Something fragile.

Blair.

She knew it without hearing the name. The truth was right there, displayed in the curve of his spine.

Bentley hung up and turned back around. The warmth vanished instantly. His face was a mask of polite indifference. "I have to go. An emergency at the hospital."

"A hospital emergency?" Chloe repeated, her voice hollow. "Or a Blair emergency?"

Bentley stiffened. "I told you, Blair is a friend. She's recovering. I'm helping her."

"You're lying," Chloe said. "You've been lying since the day she came back."

Bentley walked past her toward the hallway. "We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Bentley!"

He didn't stop. He grabbed his coat from the hook and pulled open the door. "I'll have Alex bring your breakfast tomorrow."

The door slammed shut. The sound echoed through the empty apartment.

Chloe sat frozen in her chair. The silence rushed back in, louder than before. She looked down at her hand. She was gripping her wine glass so tightly the stem was biting into her palm.

She squeezed.

The crystal shattered. Shards drove into her flesh, mixing with the red wine that splashed across the white tablecloth. It looked like blood. It felt like blood.

She didn't flinch. She just stared at the mess, a bitter smile twisting her lips.

Maura came running in. "Oh my God! Mrs. Morrow!" The housekeeper rushed to her side, grabbing a napkin to press against the bleeding cuts. "You have to be careful!"

Chloe let Maura fuss over her, but she felt nothing. The physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest. He had chosen Blair. Again. Without hesitation.

Later that night, Chloe sat alone in the dark living room. The city lights blinked below, indifferent. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She stopped on a name. Briana Mcdaniel.

Briana had been her best friend since college. A shark in the courtroom. The only person who had told Chloe not to sign the prenup.

Chloe hit dial.

Briana answered on the second ring, her voice sharp and alert despite the hour. "Chloe? What's wrong?"

"I want a divorce," Chloe said. Her voice was steady. Final.

There was a pause on the line. "Are you sure? This isn't just a fight?"

"I'm sure," Chloe said, looking down at the bandages wrapping her hand. "I'm done being a substitute."

"Okay," Briana said, her tone shifting into lawyer mode. "Don't say anything else to him. I'll draw up the papers. We'll meet tomorrow."

"He won't sign them," Chloe said.

"He will," Briana replied. "Or I'll make him. I also have a project I want to discuss with you. Something that might give you a way out."

Chloe closed her eyes. "Okay. Tomorrow."

She hung up and leaned back against the sofa. The apartment felt cold. But for the first time in three years, she felt a tiny spark of something other than pain.

Determination.