Vanessa Parker’s voice was almost too calm.
I had been sitting alone for nearly an hour at a table set for two, watching the ice around a bottle of champagne slowly melt into water.
Ethan had ordered that champagne for our anniversary.
Since the day we married, he had never forgotten the date.
Until that night.
It was also the first time his new assistant had ever answered his phone.
“There’s no need for that,” I said. “Just tell me where you are. I’ll come get him myself.”
Vanessa gave me the name of a quiet Manhattan restaurant, the kind where one dinner could cost what some families spent on groceries for a week.
The moment I walked inside, I knew things were worse than I had imagined.
There was no business dinner.
Only two people sat at the table.
Ethan’s tie was loose.
His eyes were glassy from alcohol.
An empty wineglass sat in front of him.
Vanessa was close beside him, leaning over his arm while carefully wiping something from his shirt sleeve.
A waiter approached with hot water and smiled.
“Does your boyfriend need anything else?”
Vanessa looked directly at me.
“That’s his wife.”
The silence afterward hurt more than the waiter’s mistake.
Two years earlier, I had been confident, ambitious, newly graduated, and preparing to continue my education overseas.
Now I had spent months taking hormones, vitamins, and countless remedies my mother-in-law insisted would help me conceive.
My face was constantly swollen.
My body had changed.
I had abandoned my career to stay beside Ethan while he recovered from injuries caused by an old accident.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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