Chapter 3

The afternoon sun streamed into the Thorne family living room, a place so perfectly decorated it felt more like a museum than a home. I was sitting on a plush white sofa, trying to ignore the knot of dread in my stomach. Mrs. Thorne, my mother-in-law, was arranging a bouquet of lilies in a crystal vase.

"Olivia is such a lovely girl," she said for the fifth time that hour. "So talented. Ethan and Liam have always thought of her as a little sister."

I just smiled and nodded, my grip tightening on the mug of tea in my hands. The tea was cold.

Just then, Emily stormed in, her face a mask of fury. She didn' t bother with greetings. She marched right up to me and shoved her phone into my face.

"Look," she commanded.

I saw the photos of Liam and Olivia, their casual intimacy a public spectacle. The headline was a gut punch. My best friend' s marriage was imploding right in front of me. Mrs. Thorne clucked her tongue.

"Oh, the paparazzi are so dreadful. Liam and Olivia are just friends. Always have been." She went back to her flowers, completely oblivious to the hurricane tearing through her daughter-in-law' s world.

Emily' s eyes were wild. She grabbed my hand. "Let' s divorce them, Sarah. Both of them. We' ll take their money, all of it. We' ll charter a private jet. We can hire an entire football team of handsome men. Think about it-no more family dinners, no more pretending to like his mother' s terrible cooking."

Her offer was insane, a fantasy born of heartbreak. But a part of me, a small, neglected part, felt a flicker of excitement. I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. Ethan was a good provider. Our life was comfortable. But was it happy?

"I don' t know, Em," I whispered.

As if on cue, a notification popped up on my tablet on the coffee table. It was a press release from Thorne Enterprises. I leaned forward and read the headline.

"Thorne Enterprises Proudly Announces Olivia Hayes as the New Face of Its Lifestyle Brand."

There was a photo of Olivia with Ethan. He was smiling. It was a professional, corporate smile, but it was more warmth than I' d seen from him in months. The knot in my stomach tightened into a block of ice. He hadn' t told me. This major business decision, involving the very woman who was at the center of my best friend' s crisis, and he hadn' t thought to mention it.

All my hesitation vanished. It was replaced by a cold, hard anger.

Emily saw the change in my face. "What is it?"

I turned the tablet towards her. She read it, and a slow, wicked grin spread across her face.

"Well then," she said. "It' s settled."

"It' s settled," I agreed, my voice surprisingly steady. "We' re getting divorced."

I felt a giddy sense of release. "And your plan for the football team? I' m in. But I' ll find my own. They' ll be smarter, richer, and definitely better in bed than Ethan."

The words were out before I could stop them. They hung in the air, a shocking testament to years of pent-up frustration.

Emily' s jaw dropped for a second before she burst into laughter. "Damn straight! We deserve better!"

She immediately pulled out her phone. "I' m calling my lawyer right now. We need the best divorce attorney in the country. This is going to be epic."

I watched her, a strange sense of calm washing over me. I glanced at the diamond bracelet on my wrist-a birthday gift from Ethan. It was beautiful, expensive, and completely impersonal. It felt like a payment for services rendered. My role as Mrs. Thorne. A role I was now officially resigning from.

"Sarah."

I flinched. The voice was deep and familiar. I looked up.

Ethan was standing in the archway connecting the living room to the foyer. He must have just walked in. His suit jacket was slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

He took a step into the room, his eyes locked on mine.

"What was that you said?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "Something about finding someone better than me?"