Chapter 1

The call came on a Tuesday afternoon, the kind of quiet, sun-drenched day that promised nothing but peace. I was in my home office, reviewing blueprints for a new city library, the clean lines on the paper a welcome, predictable comfort.

My phone vibrated against the polished oak of the desk. The screen lit up with a name I knew better than my own: Ethan Carter.

My husband.

I answered, my voice even.

"Hello, Ethan."

There was a short silence on the other end, just the faint, sterile hum of his office.

"Chloe," he finally said, his tone formal, distant. "We need to get a divorce."

I didn't gasp, I didn't drop the phone. I simply leaned back in my leather chair, my eyes tracing the path of a sunbeam cutting across the room.

"Okay," I said.

My calmness seemed to throw him off. He paused again, longer this time.

"I've met someone," he continued, as if following a script. "I want to give her a legitimate status. She deserves that."

"I see," I replied, my voice still a placid lake. "Then we should do that."

"I'll have my lawyer draft the papers," he said, his voice gaining a slight edge of impatience, as if my lack of drama was an inconvenience. "We can be generous with the settlement."

"That's fine, Ethan. Let me know when they're ready."

He hung up without saying goodbye.

I placed the phone back on the desk, perfectly aligned with the edge. For a long moment, I just sat there, listening to the silence of our massive, empty house. Then, I picked up my phone again and dialed my best friend, Maya Rodriguez.

She answered on the first ring, her voice a burst of energy.

"Chloe! Don't tell me you're canceling dinner. I've been looking forward to trashing your husband's latest tech-bro interview all day."

"He just called me," I said.

"Oh god, what now? Did he forget his own son's birthday is next week?"

"He wants a divorce."

The line went dead quiet. I could picture Maya, frozen in her chaotic art studio, paint on her face, her mouth hanging open.

"That son of a bitch," she finally exploded, her voice so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. "That absolute piece of garbage! After everything you've done for him, for his career! He wants to divorce you? For who? Some twenty-two-year-old intern he can impress with his private jet?"

Her outrage was a storm, a hurricane of loyalty and fury that I, the person at the center of it, could not feel.

"He said he wants to give 'the other woman' a legitimate status," I recited, the words feeling foreign and clinical.

"I'm coming over right now," Maya declared. "I'm going to burn his thousand-dollar suits. We're going to sue him for every last penny. He is not getting away with this."

"Maya, it's okay."

"No, it is not okay!" she yelled. "You're just in shock. Don't worry, I'll be angry enough for the both of us."

A small, tired smile touched my lips. "You don't have to be."

"What are you talking about?"

I took a deep breath, the first one that felt like it reached the bottom of my lungs all day.

"I also had an affair," I said, the words falling into the silence between us.

Maya went quiet again. This time it was a different kind of silence, one filled with confusion.

"What?" she whispered.

"And another thing," I added, looking at the perfect, orderly blueprints on my desk. "His affair? I arranged it."