Chapter 1

The air in the city clerk' s office was stale, smelling of old paper and cheap coffee. I clutched the marriage certificate, the paper crisp and new. Six years with Olivia Hayes, and we were finally making it official.

The clerk, a woman with tired eyes and a permanent frown, typed my name into her computer. She squinted at the screen, then back at the document in my hand.

"Mr. Miller, where did you say you obtained this certificate?"

"We had it processed at the downtown branch a couple of weeks ago. Just here to file the final paperwork."

She shook her head slowly, her eyes not leaving the monitor. "There is no downtown branch for this office. And this document... it' s not authentic."

The words hung in the air, but they didn' t shock me as much as they should have. A cold, familiar dread settled in my stomach.

"What do you mean, not authentic?" I asked, my voice flat.

"It' s a forgery, sir. A good one, but the serial number doesn' t exist in our system." She finally looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and professional detachment. "And besides, according to our records, Olivia Hayes was legally married two weeks ago."

She paused, as if waiting for me to break. I just stared back.

"To whom?"

"A Mr. Mark Johnson."

Mark Johnson. My former best friend. The tech mogul. Of course.

I didn' t say another word. I just nodded, placed the useless piece of paper on her counter, and walked out into the blinding sunlight. My hands were steady as I pulled out my phone. I scrolled to my old mentor' s name, David Lee.

Hey David. Is that job offer in Seattle still on the table?

He replied almost instantly. For you? Always. When can you start?

Soon, I typed back. Very soon.

When I got back to the apartment, our apartment, Olivia was in the kitchen, humming. She' d laid out a plate of colorful macarons.

"Ethan, you' re back! How was your day? Try one, they' re from that new French bakery."

She was wearing a silk robe, her hair tied up loosely. The picture of domestic bliss. A complete lie.

I ignored the macarons. "I was at the city clerk's office today."

Her smile didn' t falter. "Oh? So soon? I thought we were going together next week."

"I was curious," I said, watching her face carefully. "I just wanted to check on the location you mentioned. The downtown branch. Turns out, it doesn't exist."

For the first time, a flicker of something crossed her eyes, but it was gone in an instant. She laughed, a light, airy sound.

"Oh, silly me. I must have gotten the locations mixed up. You know how I am with directions." She picked up a pink macaron and held it to my lips. "Don' t worry about it. We' ll sort it out together. Have a bite."

I turned my head away.

Later that evening, I was in the study when I heard her talking on the phone in the bedroom. Her voice was low and hushed, but the door was slightly ajar.

"I had to, Sarah. You don' t understand the pressure from Mark' s family. They wanted him to marry someone from 'old money,' someone to secure his social standing. It was just a piece of paper."

A pause. I held my breath.

"No, of course he doesn' t know. Ethan thinks we' re getting married for real." Her voice dropped even lower, laced with a kind of weary frustration. "It' s just to get Mark' s family off his back. He was my first love, you know that. I couldn' t just let them ruin his life."

Another pause.

"What about Ethan? He' s... comfortable. He' s good to me. But love? After six years, it' s not about that anymore. I was never really in his heart, not like Mark was in mine."

The words hit me. Not with a sharp pain, but with a dull, heavy certainty. Six years. A lie. I was a placeholder. A comfortable piece of furniture in the life she was building for someone else.

I closed my eyes. The decision was made. I wasn' t just leaving this apartment. I was leaving her.