Chapter 2

The next morning, I watched Arthur get dressed. He chose a navy blue suit, the one I' d told him made him look trustworthy. He knotted his tie with practiced ease, his reflection in the mirror showing a man ready to win over a city.

"Big day," he said, checking his watch. "Finance committee meeting all morning. It's going to be a real grind."

"Of course," I said, sipping my coffee. "Do your best."

He kissed my forehead, a perfunctory gesture, and grabbed his briefcase. "Don't wait up. It'll be a late one."

The door clicked shut behind him. I waited a full minute before I put on my headphones and opened the app on my phone. His car's Bluetooth connected, and suddenly, I was in the passenger seat with him.

The city sounds faded as he drove, replaced by the soft rock station he always listened to. Then, the sound of his phone dialing.

"Hey, you," Juliet's voice purred through my headphones. It was sickly sweet.

"Hey, yourself," Arthur replied, his voice shifting from the serious politician to something softer, younger. "I'm on my way."

"Is she still buying it?" Juliet asked. There was a sharp edge to her voice, a possessiveness that grated on me. "The whole 'busy candidate' act?"

"Jules, don't," he said, a hint of weariness in his tone.

"What? I'm just asking," she said, her voice turning defensive. "I just don't get why you stay with her. She's so cold. Like a robot programmed for political campaigns. Does she even have a pulse?"

I felt a hot flash of anger. I had managed his last three campaigns. I had written the speeches that made him sound brilliant. I had coached him through debates that made him look invincible. I was the architect of the man he pretended to be.

"That's not fair," Arthur said, but there was no force behind it. It was a token defense.

"Whatever," Juliet sighed dramatically. "Just hurry. I've got a surprise for you. Something to make our new home feel really, truly ours."

"Oh yeah? What is it?"

"You'll see," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's about Mr. Darcy. I found the perfect way to honor his memory."

Mr. Darcy? I searched my memory. Juliet had a cat that died a few years ago. She' d posted about it endlessly, a public performance of grief.

"That's great, honey," Arthur said. "You know I'll support whatever you need."

"I know," she cooed. "I'm heading over to the garden now to get things ready."

The garden.

My blood ran cold. She couldn't mean the garden. The Kent Community Garden. The one my father had poured his heart and soul into building after my mother died. The centerpiece was a small memorial grove with a single stone bench, dedicated to my mom, Eleanor Kent. It was the most sacred place in the world to my family.

"I'll meet you there in twenty," Arthur said. "Love you."

"Love you more," she sang.

The call ended. The soft rock music filled the silence.

I ripped the headphones off, my heart pounding in my chest. This was more than an affair. This was a desecration. An invasion.

My hands flew across my keyboard. I pulled up city planning documents, garden association bylaws. The garden was public land, but the memorial grove was privately funded and maintained by my family's foundation. No additions could be made without our consent.

She was planning to put a memorial for her dead cat next to my mother's bench.

Rage, pure and clean, cut through the fog of my grief. This was a calculated move. A way to stake her claim, to erase my mother, and by extension, to erase me.

I picked up my phone. I didn't call Arthur. I didn't call my father. I scrolled through my contacts to a name I hadn't dialed in years.

Everett Richmond.

Arthur' s father. The retired senator. A man who was more ruthless and pragmatic than Arthur could ever hope to be. He answered on the second ring.

"Anya," he said, his voice a low gravel. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Everett," I said, my voice steady. "I need a favor. I need the file you have on Juliet Perez."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I knew he had one. Years ago, when Arthur first wanted to marry Juliet, Everett had put a stop to it. He' d never said how, only that she was "unsuitable." Arthur had been heartbroken, believing his father had cruelly ripped his true love away from him.

"That's a deep cut," Everett finally said. "Why now?"

"Because she's back. And she's about to cause a problem that will destroy Arthur's campaign and tarnish the Shaw family name permanently," I said. "I'm offering you a chance to help me contain it."

I was speaking his language. Not of love or betrayal, but of power, reputation, and damage control.

Another pause. Longer this time.

"It will be at your front door in an hour," he said, and hung up.

I looked at the clock. I had fifty-five minutes to get to the garden.