Chapter 2

I had to get the divorce papers ready.

Olivia didn't notice.

She was too busy with Caleb.

He was "recovering" from a "sudden illness."

Probably too much champagne at the auction.

She fussed over him.

Adjusting his pillows.

Bringing him soup.

"Oh, Caleb, you poor thing," she cooed.

"Does your head still hurt?"

I watched them.

It was like watching a play.

A very bad play.

She saw me looking.

"Ethan, darling, don't just stand there. Caleb needs water."

I almost laughed.

"Right," I said. "Of course."

My voice was flat.

She didn't seem to register my tone.

Or the fact that I was holding a large envelope.

The envelope.

With the divorce papers.

Caleb groaned dramatically from the sofa.

"Olivia, I feel so weak."

He reached a trembling hand towards her.

She rushed to his side.

"I'm here, Caleb. I'm here."

She took his hand.

Squeezed it.

Like he was a dying hero.

And she was his devoted nurse.

I felt nothing.

Just a vast emptiness.

The love I had for her.

Gone.

Drained away by too many betrayals.

Olivia looked up at me.

Her brow furrowed.

"Ethan, are you alright? You look pale."

She started to get up.

To come to me.

But Caleb moaned again.

Louder this time.

"My stomach... Olivia, I think I'm going to be sick."

She immediately turned back to him.

"Don't worry, Caleb. I'll get a bowl."

She detailed instructions to the housekeeper.

"Make sure it's lukewarm water for his compress."

"And tell chef to make that clear broth he likes."

I just stood there.

Invisible.

Holding the papers that would end us.

"You'll make a great mother, Olivia," I said.

My voice was laced with a sarcasm so thick it felt like tar.

She flinched.

Her eyes met mine.

Pain flickered there.

"Ethan, please," she whispered. "Try to understand."

"Understand what? That he's your priority now?"

"It's not like that. He's... vulnerable."

"And I wasn't?" I thought.

But I didn't say it.

What was the point?

Rain started to fall outside.

A sudden downpour.

Matching the storm inside me.

Caleb coughed weakly.

"Olivia, I'm cold."

She immediately grabbed a cashmere throw.

Draped it over him.

She was about to say something to me.

But her phone rang.

"It's Grandma Eleanor," she said, her voice tight.

She answered.

Her conversation was brief. Stressed.

When she hung up, she looked at Caleb.

Then at me.

"I have to go to the city. Eleanor needs me."

She turned to Caleb. "You'll be alright here?"

He nodded, a brave little soldier.

She kissed his forehead.

Then she looked at me.

"Ethan, we need to talk. Later."

She rushed out.

Leaving me.

With him.

And the rain.

And the divorce papers.

I needed her signature.

That was the only reason I was still here.

In this house.

This charade.

I drove to her city office.

The Beaumont Tower.

The rain was relentless.

Traffic was a nightmare.

Each red light felt like an eternity.

I clutched the envelope.

Protecting it from the damp.

It felt like the only solid thing in my life.

This decision.

This ending.

I thought about all the near misses.

The times I almost left.

The pain.

Always the pain.

The rain finally stopped.

Just as I pulled up to the tower.

A small, watery sun tried to break through the clouds.

A glimmer.

Maybe.

I walked into the lobby.

Cold marble.

Impersonal.

Like our marriage had become.

I went up to her floor.

Her assistant looked surprised to see me.

"Mr. Miller. Mrs. Beaumont-Miller is in a meeting."

"I'll wait," I said.

I had to.

I returned to the guesthouse later.

Exhausted.

The papers were signed.

She hadn't fought it.

She just looked tired.

Defeated.

"Is this what you really want, Ethan?" she'd asked.

Her voice was small.

"Yes," I said.

No hesitation.

Now, back in the guesthouse, I heard voices.

From the main house.

Olivia's. Caleb's.

Laughter.

A strange, domestic sound.

I walked closer.

Looked through the window.

They were in the kitchen.

Olivia was helping Caleb make a sandwich.

Like a mother with a child.

Or a wife with a husband.

My replacement.

Already installed.

A sharp pain shot through my head.

I swayed.

Felt dizzy.

I hadn't eaten all day.

The stress. The rain. The finality.

It was all catching up.

I remembered a time.

Years ago.

I had the flu.

A bad one.

Olivia had stayed by my side.

For three days.

Cool cloths on my forehead.

Spoon-feeding me soup.

Her worry was a physical thing.

A warm blanket.

Where did that Olivia go?

When did she disappear?