Chapter 1

Olivia Miller scrolled through her brewery' s Instagram feed, a small smile playing on her lips.

The launch party for their new hazy IPA had been a massive success.

Comments poured in, praising the flavor, the can art she' d personally overseen, the whole vibe.

Her phone buzzed with a new direct message notification.

Probably another vendor, or a hopeful influencer.

She tapped it open.

A burner account, "TruthSeeker88," no profile picture, no posts.

The message contained only a single image.

Her breath hitched.

The world tilted, colors blurring at the edges of her vision.

It was Ethan.

Her Ethan.

He was kissing someone.

Not her.

The woman was younger, blonde, clinging to him in a way that was unmistakably intimate.

They were at The Whispering Mirror, that new cocktail bar in East Austin everyone was talking about, known for its dim lighting and discreet corners.

Olivia' s stomach churned.

She recognized Ethan' s watch, the expensive one she' d given him for their fifth anniversary.

The woman... Olivia zoomed in, her hand trembling.

She' d seen her before.

Izzy. Isabelle Vance. Ethan' s junior analyst.

A quick, frantic search on Izzy' s public profile, which was surprisingly open, showed an older, now-deleted tagged photo from a friend.

The friend' s account was private, but the cached thumbnail confirmed it: Izzy, at The Whispering Mirror, earlier that same evening, wearing the same dress.

The evidence was irrefutable.

A wave of nausea washed over Olivia.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting the urge to be sick right there on her polished concrete office floor.

Twelve years.

Seven years married.

Met at UT Austin, fresh-faced and full of dreams.

This couldn't be happening.

Her head felt like it was full of angry bees, buzzing, stinging.

The image burned into her retinas.

Ethan' s arm around Izzy' s waist, Izzy' s head tilted back, eyes closed, lips pressed firmly against his.

A deep, possessive kiss.

This wasn' t a friendly peck.

This wasn' t a misunderstanding.

This was betrayal.

Cold, hard, undeniable.

Her mind flashed to the "early warning signs" she' d so diligently ignored.

Ethan' s texts had become shorter, less frequent.

"K," "Later," "Busy."

Often hours would pass before he' d reply, even though his phone seemed permanently attached to his hand whenever he was home.

She' d told herself he was stressed.

His VP job at the investment firm was demanding.

High stakes, long hours.

She was busy too, building her marketing department from scratch, passionate about her craft brewery.

She' d tried to be understanding.

But the anxiety had been a low hum beneath the surface for months.

This photo, this DM, turned that hum into a deafening roar.

The casual cruelty of it.

Sent by a stranger.

She wondered who "TruthSeeker88" was.

A disgruntled colleague?

A jealous friend of Izzy' s?

Did it even matter?

The truth was the truth, no matter the messenger.

A bitter taste filled her mouth.

She thought of a promise.

A promise made years ago, under the wide Texas sky.

A promise about communication, about her being the most important.

That promise now felt like a cruel joke.

The buzzing in her head intensified.

Her carefully constructed world was shattering.