Chapter 2

Cassidy turned her back on the floor-to-ceiling window and the warm, golden lie playing out inside.

She walked to the edge of the curb and raised a trembling hand, hailing a yellow cab that was speeding down the avenue.

She slid into the backseat. The worn leather felt cold against her thighs. She mechanically recited the address of the penthouse to the driver.

The neon lights of the city blurred into streaks of color outside the window. Cassidy stared at her own reflection in the glass. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes hollow.

She thought about the laboratory at MIT. She thought about the prestigious research position she had abandoned seven years ago, all to marry a man who looked at another woman with the smile that belonged to her.

She thought about how she had systematically filed down every sharp edge of her personality, hiding her brilliance just to fit into the suffocating mold of a Lambert family wife.

A sudden, violent wave of nausea hit her.

Cassidy slapped her hand over her mouth, her stomach convulsing as she fought the urge to vomit right there in the cab.

The car pulled up to the luxury high-rise. She handed the driver a bill, her fingers clumsy, and stepped out onto the pavement. Her legs felt like lead, her steps unsteady as she walked through the revolving doors.

The elevator doors parted on the ground floor. Cassidy took a deep, shuddering breath, forced her spine straight, and stepped inside.

When she entered the dead, silent penthouse, she walked straight toward the massive glass coffee table in the center of the living room.

Sitting perfectly in the middle was a gigantic bouquet of ninety-nine flawless red roses.

It was the anniversary gift. The one his assistant ordered every year like clockwork. Completely devoid of thought. Completely devoid of warmth.

Cassidy walked over and grabbed the thick, expensive wrapping paper surrounding the stems.

A sharp, thick thorn pierced straight through the paper and drove deep into her index finger. A bright bead of dark red blood welled up instantly.

She didn't feel a thing. The physical pain was nothing compared to the rotting sensation in her chest.

Cassidy tightened her grip, ignoring the blood, and yanked the entire massive bouquet out of its crystal vase.

She marched into the kitchen and shoved the expensive, perfect roses directly into the oversized trash can.

Red petals tore loose and scattered across the pristine marble floor, looking exactly like the shredded, wasted remnants of her youth over the last seven years.

Cassidy turned and walked into the master bedroom. She stood in front of the vanity mirror, staring at the stranger looking back at her.

She reached up to the back of her neck and unclasped the heavy diamond necklace Cornelius had given her last year.

She tossed it carelessly into the top drawer. The diamonds hit the wood with a sharp, dismissive clatter.

She walked into the cavernous walk-in closet, bypassed the rows of designer gowns, and dragged out an old, scuffed black suitcase from the very bottom shelf.

She packed only the absolute essentials: a few pairs of jeans, plain sweaters, and an old, heavily encrypted laptop hidden beneath her clothes.

She didn't touch a single item that bore the invisible price tag of the Lambert family.

The moment she zipped the suitcase shut, she pulled out her phone and dialed her best friend, Kori.

The line connected, and Kori's voice came through, thick and groggy with sleep, complaining about the time.

"I'm getting a divorce," Cassidy said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.

There was a second of dead silence on the other end. Then, Kori snapped fully awake.

"Holy shit. Where are you?" Kori demanded.

"I'm packing my things," Cassidy replied, staring at the empty space in the closet. "I'm moving out tonight."

"Don't do anything stupid," Kori ordered, her voice sharp and professional now. "I'm calling the most ruthless divorce legal team in New York right now. I'll text you."

Cassidy hung up the phone. She grabbed the handle of the black suitcase and walked out of the master bedroom without looking back.