Chapter 2

The next evening, I found myself in the rose garden on the rooftop terrace. David had it built for me on our first anniversary. It was supposed to be our sanctuary, a piece of living beauty amidst the steel and glass of the city. He' d filled it with 'Eleanor' s Blush,' a rose variety he' d had specially named for me. The fragrance used to make me feel cherished. Tonight, the heavy scent was suffocating.

A cool night wind swept across the terrace, and I shivered, pulling my thin cardigan tighter around my arms. The cold wasn' t just from the air, it was seeping out from inside me, a deep, internal frost that had taken root in my soul. I looked at the delicate pink blooms, their petals perfect and unblemished. They were a lie, just like everything else.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers moving with a purpose I hadn' t felt in days. I scrolled past David' s name, past his mother' s, and found the one person I could trust. Chloe. My best friend since college. She was the opposite of me-loud, impulsive, and fiercely loyal. She saw the world in black and white, good and evil. She would know what to do.

She answered on the first ring. "El? What' s up? It' s late."

"I need your help, Chlo," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

"What is it? You sound awful. Is it David? Did that jerk do something?" Chloe had never fully trusted David' s perfect husband act. She always said he was "too smooth." I used to defend him. Now, her skepticism felt like a lifeline.

Tears I didn' t know I had in me began to fall, hot and silent. "He has another family."

I told her everything. The phone call. The child' s voice. The conversation I overheard between David and his mother. The names, the ages of the boys. With every word I spoke, the truth became more real, more solid. It was no longer a nightmare I might wake up from. It was the foundation of my new reality.

Chloe was silent for a long moment after I finished. I could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and filled with a cold fury.

"I' m going to kill him."

"No," I said, a strange clarity cutting through my grief. "That' s too easy. I don' t want to destroy him. I just want to be free of him. I want to disappear."

"What do you mean, disappear? Like, move out? I' ll help you pack. We can do it tomorrow while he' s gone."

"No, you don' t understand," I said, looking out at the dark water of the harbor in the distance. An idea, wild and terrifying, began to form in my mind. "He would never let me go. He' d find me. He' d use his money, his power, his charm. He would hunt me down and drag me back into this lie. I need to be gone. For good."

"El, what are you talking about?"

"I want you to help me fake my death," I said. The words came out clear and steady. "An accident. Out on the water. A tragic fall from a yacht. No body ever found."

There was another long silence. I knew how crazy it sounded. But the alternative-a messy divorce, a public scandal, a life spent looking over my shoulder-was unthinkable. I couldn't endure his fake apologies, his pleas for forgiveness. I couldn't stand to see the pity in our friends' eyes.

"Okay," Chloe said finally, her voice firm. "Okay, El. If that' s what you want, I' m in. Tell me the plan."

David came home on Friday, exactly as he' d promised. He walked in the door with a huge bouquet of roses-not the special 'Eleanor' s Blush,' but generic red ones from a florist. He swept me into his arms, his embrace feeling like a cage.

"I missed you so much," he murmured into my hair.

I remembered a time when those words would have made my heart soar. I remembered our honeymoon in Italy, standing on a balcony overlooking the Amalfi Coast. He' d held me just like this and whispered the same words. The memory flickered and died, a ghost of a feeling. Now, his touch made my skin crawl.

"I missed you too," I replied, the lie tasting like poison.

He pulled back, a charming, apologetic smile on his face. "I know I' ve been working too much. I promise, after this quarter, things will slow down. It' s all for us, you know. For our future."

His words were a performance, and I was his unwilling audience. I just nodded, my face a mask of weary acceptance.

The next day, he insisted on taking me shopping. It was his usual routine after a "business trip." A guilt offering. He led me into our favorite high-end jewelry store, the one where he' d bought my engagement ring.

"I saw something I thought you' d love," he said, leading me to a glass case.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, was a necklace. A delicate platinum chain with a single, flawless diamond. It was beautiful, expensive, and completely meaningless.

"What do you think?" he asked, his eyes shining with false sincerity. "A little something to say I' m sorry for being away so much."

"It' s lovely, David," I said, my voice flat.

He didn' t seem to notice my lack of enthusiasm. He was too busy playing his part. He had the clerk take it out, and he fastened it around my neck. The cold metal touched my skin. He stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, both of us looking at our reflection in the mirror.

He saw a happy, devoted couple. The successful husband bestowing a gift upon his beautiful wife.

I saw a stranger wearing my face. I saw a man whose hands on my shoulders felt like a lead weight. I saw the lie, reflected back at us in perfect clarity.

"It' s perfect," he said, kissing my temple. "Just like you."

I forced a smile. "Thank you, David."

Inside, I was already gone. I was standing on the deck of a boat, the wind in my hair, watching this life, this man, this lie, sink beneath the waves.