Chapter 2

My hands shook, but my voice was steady when I called Ben Carter.

He was an old college friend, a lawyer now.

"Ben, it's Ava."

"Ava! I'm so sorry about Ethan. How are you holding up?"

"He's not dead, Ben."

Silence.

Then, "What? Ava, what are you talking about?"

"I just saw him. In New Orleans. With Chloe Hayes. He faked it all."

I told him what I overheard. Every sickening word.

"That bastard," Ben breathed. "Okay, Ava. What do you want to do?"

Fury, cold and clear, replaced the shock.

"I want him declared legally absent. I want full control of The Daily Rise. Our joint finances. Everything."

"Legally absent, not dead?"

"He's not dead. He's a con artist. But he is gone. Tell the courts the search yielded nothing. I need to secure my future. Our future, the bakery's."

"I understand," Ben said, his voice all business now. "I'll start the paperwork immediately. We' ll need to be careful."

"I know."

Back in Portland, our house felt different. Tainted.

I remembered Ethan' s complaints. "You're too obsessed with the bakery, Ava." "We never have any fun."

His side of the closet.

I opened it.

Many of his expensive designer clothes were gone. His favorite watches. His newest laptop and tablet.

Things a man fighting for his life in a river wouldn't pack.

I' d been too grief-stricken to check our home security system footage.

Now, I made myself watch.

Hours of it. From the weeks I was coordinating search efforts, or curled up in despair.

There they were.

Ethan and Chloe.

Walking into our home like they owned it.

Chloe, smirking, taking a selfie on her phone. In our living room.

Then another video. Ethan and Chloe, laughing, in our kitchen, drinking wine.

The date stamp showed it was the day after the official search was called off.

The worst was them in our bedroom.

Taking selfies. On our marital bed.

The rage was a physical thing inside me, burning away the last of the tears.

He hadn't just betrayed me. He'd danced on the grave of our life together.