Chapter 3

I opened my hand and looked at the ring. It was beautifully crafted, simple and elegant. But something was wrong. It looked... small. I tried to slip it on my left index finger, the one she always measured for my jewelry. It wouldn' t go past the knuckle.

A cold, bitter realization hit me. In her haste to answer Dixon' s call, she had given me the wrong ring. This wasn' t for me. It was for him. His fingers were slenderer than mine.

A dark impulse took over. The ring had a small, almost invisible button on the side. A panic button, she had probably told him. I hesitated for only a second before pressing it. It was a receiver, not a tracker. It was designed to let her listen in.

The ring came to life, not with an alarm, but with a voice. Dixon' s voice, whining and pathetic.

"...crying my eyes out, Cat. I thought you were going to spend the whole day with me."

Catalina' s voice was a low murmur, sweet and cloying. "I know, my love. I' m sorry. I had to give Eleazar his present. You know how fragile he is. I have to keep up appearances."

"But you promised," Dixon sniffled. "You said you' d be here."

"And I will be," she cooed. "I' m on my way right now. I' ll take care of you, I promise."

"Really? You' re coming back?" His voice was full of pathetic, childish hope.

"I would never lie to you, Dixon."

I heard the thrum of the helicopter' s blades through the ring' s tiny speaker. The same sound I had just heard as it carried her away from me. She used to take me on joyrides in that helicopter when I was recovering, telling me we were flying above all our problems.

Now I knew the truth. The problem wasn' t below us. It was sitting right next to me, holding my hand and lying to my face. The biggest problem of my life was the woman I thought was my savior.

The helicopter sound faded, then returned. It was landing. But not here.

I walked to the edge of the property and looked over the cliffside. There, on the adjacent plot of land, was another house. A near-identical glass and stone mansion. The helicopter was sitting on its landing pad.

The ring in my hand crackled to life again.

"Oh, Dixon, do you like it?" Catalina' s voice was bright with false excitement. "I had it built just for you. A little love nest, just for us."

"It' s... it' s beautiful, Cat," he stammered. "Just like his."

"Better than his," she corrected smoothly. "Now, I' m going to stay with you all day. We can do whatever you want."

My phone buzzed. A text from her.

"So sorry, my love. A client is having a meltdown. I have to stay and talk them through this new project. I' ll be home late. Don' t wait up. XOXO."

I stared at the screen, my hand gripping my phone so tightly the plastic creaked. Tears blurred my vision. She could buy two men two identical mansions. She could whisper the same promises into two men' s ears. But she could only belong to one of them. And it wasn' t me.

I felt like the other woman. The secret, shameful mistress tucked away while she lived her real life with her real husband.

I just wanted this nightmare to be over.

I didn' t stay at the manor. I went back to the house-the one I used to call home-and locked myself in my studio. I didn' t sleep. I drew. I poured all the pain, the betrayal, and the fury onto the page. I had to win that London prize. It was my only way out. My only path to a life beyond her.

A new idea sparked in my mind, born from the raw agony. A design that was both beautiful and broken, elegant and scarred. It was the best work I had ever done.

After hours of frantic sketching, I finally finished the initial draft. My hand was shaking from exhaustion. As I set the pencil down, my fingers brushed against the ring I' d left on the desk.

It turned on again. Dixon was speaking.

"...I' m so tired of hiding, Cat. I want to be with you in public. I want everyone to know that I' m your husband."

There was a long silence. My arm trembled, the old injury flaring up with a phantom ache. She wouldn' t. She couldn' t. She had built this entire, elaborate lie to protect her image, to keep me as her perfect, broken trophy. She would never risk exposing herself. She would never let a low-life like Dixon Bright stand by her side in the light of day.

Then, Catalina' s voice came, soft and resolute.

"Okay."

Just that one word. Okay.

It hit me harder than the hammer ever did.