Chapter 1

The first sign was a receipt from a hotel I didn't recognize, crumpled in the pocket of a suit I was taking to the dry cleaners. I smoothed it out on the granite countertop of our kitchen. The "Ocean View Suite" for two. Last Tuesday.

I was working late last Tuesday.

Mark told me he was at a tech conference that night. He even sent me a picture of a PowerPoint slide.

I stood there for a long time, just looking at the receipt. Our seven-year marriage felt perfect, like the sleek, modern houses I designed. Clean lines, solid foundations. Or so I thought.

Daisy, my golden retriever, nudged my hand with her wet nose, sensing my unease. I stroked her soft fur, my heart starting to beat a little too fast.

The next evening, Mark said he had another late meeting. He kissed me goodbye, his lips feeling cool against my skin. He smelled faintly of a perfume that wasn't mine.

"I'll be late, don't wait up," he said, his voice smooth and easy.

As soon as his car pulled out of the driveway, I got into my own. I didn't have a plan. I just drove. I ended up near his office building, parking across the street where I could see the entrance.

An hour passed. Then another. Just as I was about to give up, I saw him. He walked out of the building, not alone. A woman was with him, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. Chloe Davis. His new assistant. Ambitious, young, and smiling up at my husband like he was the sun.

My breath caught in my throat.

I followed them. My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. They drove to a fancy downtown restaurant, one of those places with valet parking and dim lighting. I watched them get out of the car. Mark' s hand was on the small of her back, guiding her inside. They were laughing.

I felt cold, a deep, hollowing cold that had nothing to do with the night air.

I parked my car and walked to the restaurant. Through the large glass window, I saw them at a secluded table, a candle flickering between them. They looked like a couple in love. He leaned in and brushed a strand of hair from her face. She touched his hand.

It was so easy for them. So natural. The sight of it broke something inside me.

I couldn't just stand there. I had to get away. But as I turned, my heel caught on an uneven patch of sidewalk. I stumbled, my handbag flying from my grasp and spilling its contents across the pavement. My keys, my wallet, a tube of lipstick.

The clatter was loud in the quiet street.

I knelt, scrambling to pick everything up, my cheeks burning with shame. That' s when I heard their voices. They were coming out of the restaurant.

"She' ll never find out, Mark. She' s too trusting," Chloe was saying, her tone light and mocking.

"I know," Mark' s voice was a low murmur. "But we have to be careful. Ava... she' s sensitive."

Sensitive. The word felt like a slap. I was sensitive. I was trusting. I was a fool.

I stood up, holding my purse, and faced them. The laughter died on their lips. Mark' s eyes widened in shock, his face draining of color.

"Ava," he stammered, taking a step back, his hand dropping from Chloe' s arm.

Chloe just stared, a flicker of triumph in her eyes before she arranged her features into a mask of concern.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. The words were trapped in my chest, a painful lump of betrayal.

I turned and walked away, my steps fast and unsteady. I just needed to get to my car, to get home, to hide.

"Ava, wait!" Mark called out, running after me.

He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away, but his grip was strong.

"Let me explain," he pleaded.

"Explain what?" I finally found my voice, and it was sharp with pain. "Explain the hotel? The perfume? Or this?" I gestured wildly at Chloe, who had now caught up to them, looking pale and fragile.

"Mark, I don' t feel well," Chloe whispered, leaning against him.

And just like that, his attention shifted. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "It' s okay, Chloe. I' m here."

That' s when I saw it. A delicate silver necklace around Chloe' s neck. On it was a small, custom-designed charm: a perfect, miniature architect' s compass.

The compass I had given Mark for our fifth anniversary.

The world tilted. A sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen. It was so intense it made me gasp and double over.

"Ava?" Mark' s voice sounded distant.

I saw him look from me to Chloe, a flicker of indecision on his face. Then he made his choice. He held Chloe tighter, shielding her as if I were the threat.

He chose her.

The pain in my stomach was a fire now, spreading, consuming everything. I pressed a hand to my belly, where our three-month-old secret was growing. Our baby.

A wave of dizziness washed over me. I felt something warm and wet trickle down my leg. I looked down. Blood. So much blood.

Daisy. My first thought was for my dog, waiting for me at home. My loyal, loving Daisy. Who would let her out?

Mark finally seemed to grasp the severity of the situation. His face went white with panic. "Ava! Oh my God, the baby!"

But it was too late. The darkness was pulling me under. My last conscious thought was of the silver compass glinting against Chloe' s skin, a symbol of everything I had just lost.