Chapter 4

I woke up on the floor to the smell of fresh coffee and Christian' s footsteps in the hall.

He knelt beside me, his face a mask of concern. "Carmen! Honey, what are you doing down here? Did you fall asleep waiting for me?"

He reached out to touch my face, his voice soft with worry. "You look exhausted. Your eyes are all red."

I flinched away from his touch, the revulsion a physical force.

He noticed. His expression tightened for a fraction of a second before he replaced it with a look of hurt. "Baby, are you mad at me for staying at the hospital all night? I'm so sorry. Jace's fever was stubborn."

He tried to pull me into his arms, cooing at me like I was a child. "Come on, don't be mad. I brought you your favorite pastries from that little French bakery."

I stared at his handsome, lying face, and all I felt was a profound, chilling sense of the absurd. This man, my husband, was a stranger. A monster wearing a familiar skin.

I remembered a night, years ago, when he had held me just like this and sworn he would never lie to me, that I was the only thing in his life that was real and true. Another beautiful, hollow promise.

"I'm going to take a shower," I said, my voice flat as I pushed myself to my feet and walked away from him.

I stood under the scalding water, letting it wash over me. When I stepped out, the fog of grief had cleared, leaving behind a cold, hard clarity. My heart felt like a block of ice.

When I came downstairs, Christian had breakfast laid out on the table. "I know you have that big charity gala for Jace's birthday coming up," he said, smiling. "I already had your dress delivered to the boutique for its final fitting. It's that silver one you loved."

The gala. It was the perfect opportunity. A public stage.

"Thank you, Christian," I said, my voice smooth. "That's very thoughtful."

I would go to the gala. And I would burn his world to the ground.

We drove to the boutique together, an exercise in strained normalcy. Christian chattered about work, about Jace, about a million meaningless things. I nodded and smiled, my mind miles away, plotting.

When we walked into the chic, minimalist showroom, my heart stopped. Kassidy was there, looking at wedding dresses.

Christian didn't miss a beat. "Kassidy! What a coincidence," he said, his voice booming with false surprise. "Helping a friend pick out a dress?"

"Something like that," she said, her eyes flicking to me with a look of practiced sweetness.

"My dress is ready," I said, my voice clipped. "I'll go try it on."

"I'll wait for you right here," Christian said, his eyes crinkling in that way that used to make my heart melt.

The main floor fitting rooms were all occupied, so the sales associate led me upstairs to the VIP suite. I carried the heavy garment bag myself, the silver silk cool against my arm.

As I stepped into the spacious, private fitting area, I heard voices from the adjacent suite. A low, feminine giggle.

Kassidy's voice.

"Are you sure she won't hear us, Christian?" she purred. "She's just downstairs."

Then, his voice, low and contemptuous. "Let her. What's she going to do? That woman is so wrapped around my finger, she wouldn't know the truth if it bit her on the ass."

Kassidy giggled again, a sickeningly sweet sound. "But what if she finds out about... us? About Jace?"

"She won't," he scoffed. "And even if she did, who would believe her? I've spent years building my reputation. I'm the perfect husband. She's just the emotional, unstable wife."

There was a rustling sound, then Kassidy's soft moan. The sounds that followed were unmistakable, a graphic, auditory assault that turned my stomach. They were having sex. Here. While I was in the next room.

The sheer, staggering audacity of it left me breathless. It wasn't just betrayal. It was contempt. They were mocking me.

I felt a surge of nausea, bile rising in my throat.

Then I heard Christian's voice again, breathless and smug. "Thank you for giving me a son, Kassidy. A real heir."

"I love you, Christian," she whispered. "I just wish we could be properly married."

He laughed, a low, cruel sound. "That piece of paper she's so proud of? It's just a piece of paper. You and Jace, you're my real family."

My mind flashed back to our wedding day. Christian, his eyes shining with tears, holding our marriage certificate as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "Now it's official," he'd said. "You're stuck with me forever."

Another lie. Everything was a lie.