Chapter 1

Scarlett Hayes' s company, Hayes Innovations, saw its stock value double overnight. To celebrate, she didn't throw a lavish party for her investors or employees. She threw one for herself.

She had a routine for these moments of triumph. A new car, a new designer wardrobe, and a new man. Or in this case, a new pair of men.

Liam Miller, her husband of three years, stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of their penthouse, watching the city lights blur below. He was an accessory, just like the thousand-dollar vase on the marble tabletop or the abstract painting on the wall. He was there to make the room look complete, but nobody was expected to pay him any real attention.

Scarlett strutted into the living room, her phone pressed to her ear. She wore a silk robe that did little to hide her perfect figure.

"Yes, two of them," she said into the phone, her voice dripping with command. "The best your agency has. Young, fit, and eager to please. Send them to the penthouse. Now."

She ended the call and tossed the phone onto a velvet couch. Her eyes, cold and sharp, landed on Liam.

"Did you hear that, darling?"

Liam didn't turn around. He just kept staring at the city.

"I heard."

"Good," she purred, walking up behind him. She ran a hand over the back of his custom-tailored suit, a suit she had bought him. "They' ll be here in an hour. I need you to run an errand for me."

She held out a platinum credit card.

"Go to the all-night pharmacy on 5th Avenue. Buy some protection. The expensive kind. And while you' re at it, get some champagne. The good stuff, not the trash we serve at company parties."

Liam finally turned to face her. His expression was unreadable, a calm mask he had perfected over years of enduring these moments. He looked at the credit card in her hand, then back at her face.

"And when you get back," Scarlett continued, her lips curling into a smirk, "I' ll need you to coach them a little. You know, on what I like. You' ve been my good little cuckold for so long, you should be an expert by now."

Her friends, who had been lounging on the couches and sipping her expensive liquor, tittered with laughter. Tiffany, Scarlett' s best friend, raised her glass in a mock toast.

"To Liam," Tiffany said, her voice laced with venom. "The most supportive husband in New York."

The laughter grew louder. It was a familiar sound, the soundtrack to Liam' s marriage. For years, he had swallowed it. He had endured the public parades of her male companions, the casual insults, the complete and utter neglect. He did it because of a promise, a debt his family owed hers. But tonight, something was different.

The final piece of his endurance had just crumbled away.

Liam looked at Scarlett, at her smug, beautiful face. He looked at her laughing friends. He felt nothing. Not anger, not sadness. Just a profound, chilling emptiness.

He calmly pushed her hand, and the credit card, away.

"No."

The laughter in the room died instantly. The silence was heavy. Scarlett' s smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of disbelief, then irritation.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said no," Liam repeated, his voice even and clear. "I' m not going anywhere. And you should probably cancel your order."

He took a slow breath.

"We' re getting a divorce, Scarlett."

A wave of shock rippled through the room. Tiffany choked on her drink. Scarlett stared at him, her eyes wide. Then, she threw her head back and let out a sharp, ugly laugh.

"A divorce? You? Are you insane?" she scoffed. "You have nothing, Liam. Absolutely nothing. I own you. I own this apartment, the clothes on your back, the very air you breathe. You can' t divorce me."

Her friends joined in, their mockery echoing her own.

"He' s finally lost it!"

"Does he think he' ll get a single penny?"

"Scarlett, you need to get your little pet a new leash!"

Liam waited for the noise to die down. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a folded document. He placed it on the marble table.

"You' re right," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I can' t divorce you."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air.

"Because I already did."

Scarlett stared at the paper, then back at him, her face a mask of confusion.

"That' s a copy of the final decree," Liam explained calmly. "You signed the papers six weeks ago. It was mixed in with that stack of quarterly reports for the foundation. You were in such a hurry to get to your spa appointment that you signed everything without looking. The divorce was finalized last Tuesday. We' re done, Scarlett. It' s over."