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Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
This year, over Easter weekend, my husband did something unprecedented: he told me to take a vacation. He even booked me a seven-day trip to Scandinavia. I thought he'd finally learned to be considerate. Then I overheard his conversation with our son. ""Daddy, you married Aunt Amelia. What about Mommy?"" My son's voice was small, confused. ""It's just a pretend marriage."" My husband chuckled softly. ""Be a good boy, Finn Abbott. Remember, this is our secret. Don't tell Mommy, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."" My head buzzed like a struck bell. I stood frozen for a long time, then turned and went downstairs to stand in the cold wind. If he wanted to make up for lost time with Amelia Galloway, then I had every right to chase the dreams I'd abandoned. Once I left for Scandinavia, I wouldn't be coming back. ... After I'd calmed down, I headed back upstairs and ran straight into Cole Farley in the hallway. I looked at his flashy red suit and frowned. ""I thought you hated red."" ""That was then, this is now. Red's in style this year. Besides, I'm helping a buddy try on wedding outfits, so I figured I should dress festive."" Cole Farley rattled off excuses in a single breath. But it hit me all at once. Red was Amelia Galloway's favorite color. And ever since Amelia had returned from abroad, Cole's closet had filled up with red jackets, red underwear, red socks. It had all been right there in front of me. ""Trying on wedding outfits? Let me drive you."" I kept my voice light. ""No, no, that's okay!"" Cole shook his head so fast it was almost comical. ""Why would a woman want to tag along for guys' stuff?"" ""I'll bring you and Finn something back when I'm done."" He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word, and bolted out the door. A sharp pain twisted through my chest. I almost called out to stop him, but in the end, I just shook my head. Everyone thought Cole Farley and I were the perfect couple, a fairy-tale romance in life and an unstoppable team in business. He hadn't looked down on my humble background. He'd married me without hesitation. I'd worked nearly every day of every year, pulling Farley Group back from the brink of bankruptcy more times than I could count. People called me a workaholic, a machine. Ten years side by side. We'd built a beautiful son and rebuilt the Farley Group into something magnificent. And yet, I was only now discovering that Cole Farley had been carrying Amelia Galloway in his heart all along. I walked through the front door. ""Mommy."" Finn rushed over and threw his arms around my legs. ""No matter what happens, you'll never leave me and Daddy, right?"" He seemed to sense something. His small face was tight with fear. Pain lanced through my chest. I crouched down and stroked his hair. ""If Mommy and Daddy separated one day, who would you want to go with?"" Finn went still. Then his eyes welled with tears. ""I'm sorry."" I pulled him into a hug. ""Mommy's going to go make dinner, okay?"" Finn was only eight years old. Two adults' problems should never be a child's burden. We could have hired someone to cook, but Finn and Cole both loved my home cooking. I knew every preference and every aversion the two of them had. Tonight I made Finn's favorites: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, hearty meatballs, and egg pancakes fresh off the griddle. When Finn saw the spread on the table, he burst into tears. He looked up at me. ""Mommy."" ""You already know about Aunt Amelia marrying Daddy, don't you?"" ""Daddy told me it's just a pretend marriage. Mommy, please don't be mad, okay? Daddy loves you."" I let out a quiet sigh and gathered Finn into my arms. I knew. His little head couldn't hold all the tangled complications of the adult world. He simply believed his father and hoped, with everything he had, that Mommy and Daddy would stay together. Chapter 2 Unfortunately, the adult world was never that simple. After dinner, I spotted a social media post from one of Cole's so-called buddies and couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The wedding attire photos didn't show a face, but the small red mole on the neck was unmistakable. Cole had the same one. In another photo, a man and a woman held hands, fingers intertwined. The ring finger bore a clear indentation where a band had been. The watch on the man's wrist was one I recognized. It belonged to Amelia. The caption read: ""The moon I once lost has come back to light my world again."" The words looked familiar. I rushed into the study and moved Cole's laptop aside. Beneath it sat a notebook. The moment I flipped it open, that exact line stared back at me. Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: this account didn't belong to some buddy. It was Cole's own. ""A trip to Scandinavia."" ""A made-up friend's wedding and a fake account."" ""Cole, to deceive me, to be with Amelia, you actually came up with schemes this absurd."" I muttered to myself, then picked up my phone and sent a message. Save me a spot on the partnership. Also, have your lawyer draft a divorce agreement for me. Months ago, Jordan Ellis had invited me to start a business in Scandinavia, offering me a thirty percent stake without requiring a single dollar of investment. The other two partners had agreed because they valued my abilities. But I had a husband and a child. All I'd wanted was stability, so I kept turning her down. Now it was time to stop holding myself back. Close to midnight, Cole stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He carried no gifts. His shirt collar hung open, and a smear of lipstick marked the fabric. He looked like a mess. ""Honey, you're still up? Waiting for me again?"" He flashed me a grin. ""You bad girl, always keeping me on my toes."" He turned and headed straight for the bathroom. Before, he would have hugged me first. The thought made my heart sink. Suddenly, I heard muffled sobbing and hurried to Finn's room. ""What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"" Finn shook his head. His small finger pointed at the phone screen. I looked down. Olive Fox had posted on social media. She sat in front of a pink piano, hugging a tablet, beaming with joy. The caption read: Thank you to the best dad in the whole world for my limited-edition custom piano. ""Mom."" ""I saw that piano on Dad's computer. And the tablet too."" That one hurt sentence nearly shattered every wall I'd built. I finally understood why Finn was crying. Cole always said, ""Boys need to be raised tough, or he'll grow up reckless with money."" So he was strict with Finn. Whatever toy the boy wanted, the answer was almost always no. Even this phone was one I'd passed down to Finn myself. I would sneak Finn out for fun whenever I could. Every time Cole found out, he'd get angry with me. That was why he'd tried to buy Finn's silence with a toy car. And today, before leaving, he'd promised to bring gifts for both me and Finn. He'd come home empty-handed. Lying to me and deceiving me was one thing. But how could he lavish another woman's daughter with everything she wanted while being so cruel and dishonest to his own son? ""It's okay, sweetheart."" ""From now on, Mommy will buy you everything."" I comforted Finn and stayed until he fell asleep, then went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The moment Cole came out, I pressed down my anger and asked, ""Didn't you say you were bringing Finn a gift?"" ""Oh, I forgot."" Cole gave an awkward laugh, rushed over, and wrapped his arms around me. ""I'll get him something next time. Boys need to be raised tough anyway."" Chapter 3 He spoke softly, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. There was a time when my body responded to him on instinct, when a touch like that would have undone me completely. Now I felt nothing. ""I noticed Olive gets whatever she wants. Her family just buys it. She was sitting on a pink piano today, hugging a tablet, grinning from ear to ear."" I said it deliberately, letting the barb land. Cole froze for a beat, then exploded. He shot to his feet, brow furrowed. ""Why do you always have to compare him to other people?"" ""It's a gift. One gift. What's with the passive-aggressive comments? Are you trying to pick a fight?"" ""Is it Finn who wants presents, or is it you?"" I said nothing. I just lifted my gaze and held his. The silence between us turned rigid. Cole seemed to lose his nerve. He looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. ""Honey, let's not fight. The day after tomorrow is Finn's birthday. I promise I'll have a big surprise ready for him."" ""Just keep your spirits up these next couple of days and get ready for the Scandinavian trip."" I nodded, then excused myself to the study under the pretense of catching up on work. The next day. At the company-wide meeting, Amelia spoke up without warning. ""While Carina's on vacation, someone will need to cover her responsibilities, won't they?"" ""I'd like to volunteer."" A smile curled at the corner of her lips, her eyes locked on mine, glinting with provocation. The room went still. Every head turned toward Cole, waiting for his response. It was only a seven-day vacation. At most, Cole himself or a deputy could have handled things. No one expected Amelia to demand authority to her face like that. It was absurd. ""Do what Amelia suggested."" Cole drew a deep breath and turned to me. ""Carina, just enjoy your time off. Leave the work to Amelia. She's perfectly capable."" Dead silence. This time, every pair of eyes in the
This year, over Easter weekend, my husband did something unprecedented: he told me to take a vacation. He even booked me a seven-day trip to Scandinavia. I thought he'd finally learned to be considerate. Then I overheard his conversation with our son. ""Daddy, you married Aunt Amelia. What about Mommy?"" My son's voice was small, confused. ""It's just a pretend marriage."" My husband chuckled softly. ""Be a good boy, Finn Abbott. Remember, this is our secret. Don't tell Mommy, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."" My head buzzed like a struck bell. I stood frozen for a long time, then turned and went downstairs to stand in the cold wind. If he wanted to make up for lost time with Amelia Galloway, then I had every right to chase the dreams I'd abandoned. Once I left for Scandinavia, I wouldn't be coming back. ... After I'd calmed down, I headed back upstairs and ran straight into Cole Farley in the hallway. I looked at his flashy red suit and frowned. ""I thought you hated red."" ""That was then, this is now. Red's in style this year. Besides, I'm helping a buddy try on wedding outfits, so I figured I should dress festive."" Cole Farley rattled off excuses in a single breath. But it hit me all at once. Red was Amelia Galloway's favorite color. And ever since Amelia had returned from abroad, Cole's closet had filled up with red jackets, red underwear, red socks. It had all been right there in front of me. ""Trying on wedding outfits? Let me drive you."" I kept my voice light. ""No, no, that's okay!"" Cole shook his head so fast it was almost comical. ""Why would a woman want to tag along for guys' stuff?"" ""I'll bring you and Finn something back when I'm done."" He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word, and bolted out the door. A sharp pain twisted through my chest. I almost called out to stop him, but in the end, I just shook my head. Everyone thought Cole Farley and I were the perfect couple, a fairy-tale romance in life and an unstoppable team in business. He hadn't looked down on my humble background. He'd married me without hesitation. I'd worked nearly every day of every year, pulling Farley Group back from the brink of bankruptcy more times than I could count. People called me a workaholic, a machine. Ten years side by side. We'd built a beautiful son and rebuilt the Farley Group into something magnificent. And yet, I was only now discovering that Cole Farley had been carrying Amelia Galloway in his heart all along. I walked through the front door. ""Mommy."" Finn rushed over and threw his arms around my legs. ""No matter what happens, you'll never leave me and Daddy, right?"" He seemed to sense something. His small face was tight with fear. Pain lanced through my chest. I crouched down and stroked his hair. ""If Mommy and Daddy separated one day, who would you want to go with?"" Finn went still. Then his eyes welled with tears. ""I'm sorry."" I pulled him into a hug. ""Mommy's going to go make dinner, okay?"" Finn was only eight years old. Two adults' problems should never be a child's burden. We could have hired someone to cook, but Finn and Cole both loved my home cooking. I knew every preference and every aversion the two of them had. Tonight I made Finn's favorites: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, hearty meatballs, and egg pancakes fresh off the griddle. When Finn saw the spread on the table, he burst into tears. He looked up at me. ""Mommy."" ""You already know about Aunt Amelia marrying Daddy, don't you?"" ""Daddy told me it's just a pretend marriage. Mommy, please don't be mad, okay? Daddy loves you."" I let out a quiet sigh and gathered Finn into my arms. I knew. His little head couldn't hold all the tangled complications of the adult world. He simply believed his father and hoped, with everything he had, that Mommy and Daddy would stay together. Chapter 2 Unfortunately, the adult world was never that simple. After dinner, I spotted a social media post from one of Cole's so-called buddies and couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The wedding attire photos didn't show a face, but the small red mole on the neck was unmistakable. Cole had the same one. In another photo, a man and a woman held hands, fingers intertwined. The ring finger bore a clear indentation where a band had been. The watch on the man's wrist was one I recognized. It belonged to Amelia. The caption read: ""The moon I once lost has come back to light my world again."" The words looked familiar. I rushed into the study and moved Cole's laptop aside. Beneath it sat a notebook. The moment I flipped it open, that exact line stared back at me. Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: this account didn't belong to some buddy. It was Cole's own. ""A trip to Scandinavia."" ""A made-up friend's wedding and a fake account."" ""Cole, to deceive me, to be with Amelia, you actually came up with schemes this absurd."" I muttered to myself, then picked up my phone and sent a message. Save me a spot on the partnership. Also, have your lawyer draft a divorce agreement for me. Months ago, Jordan Ellis had invited me to start a business in Scandinavia, offering me a thirty percent stake without requiring a single dollar of investment. The other two partners had agreed because they valued my abilities. But I had a husband and a child. All I'd wanted was stability, so I kept turning her down. Now it was time to stop holding myself back. Close to midnight, Cole stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He carried no gifts. His shirt collar hung open, and a smear of lipstick marked the fabric. He looked like a mess. ""Honey, you're still up? Waiting for me again?"" He flashed me a grin. ""You bad girl, always keeping me on my toes."" He turned and headed straight for the bathroom. Before, he would have hugged me first. The thought made my heart sink. Suddenly, I heard muffled sobbing and hurried to Finn's room. ""What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"" Finn shook his head. His small finger pointed at the phone screen. I looked down. Olive Fox had posted on social media. She sat in front of a pink piano, hugging a tablet, beaming with joy. The caption read: Thank you to the best dad in the whole world for my limited-edition custom piano. ""Mom."" ""I saw that piano on Dad's computer. And the tablet too."" That one hurt sentence nearly shattered every wall I'd built. I finally understood why Finn was crying. Cole always said, ""Boys need to be raised tough, or he'll grow up reckless with money."" So he was strict with Finn. Whatever toy the boy wanted, the answer was almost always no. Even this phone was one I'd passed down to Finn myself. I would sneak Finn out for fun whenever I could. Every time Cole found out, he'd get angry with me. That was why he'd tried to buy Finn's silence with a toy car. And today, before leaving, he'd promised to bring gifts for both me and Finn. He'd come home empty-handed. Lying to me and deceiving me was one thing. But how could he lavish another woman's daughter with everything she wanted while being so cruel and dishonest to his own son? ""It's okay, sweetheart."" ""From now on, Mommy will buy you everything."" I comforted Finn and stayed until he fell asleep, then went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The moment Cole came out, I pressed down my anger and asked, ""Didn't you say you were bringing Finn a gift?"" ""Oh, I forgot."" Cole gave an awkward laugh, rushed over, and wrapped his arms around me. ""I'll get him something next time. Boys need to be raised tough anyway."" Chapter 3 He spoke softly, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. There was a time when my body responded to him on instinct, when a touch like that would have undone me completely. Now I felt nothing. ""I noticed Olive gets whatever she wants. Her family just buys it. She was sitting on a pink piano today, hugging a tablet, grinning from ear to ear."" I said it deliberately, letting the barb land. Cole froze for a beat, then exploded. He shot to his feet, brow furrowed. ""Why do you always have to compare him to other people?"" ""It's a gift. One gift. What's with the passive-aggressive comments? Are you trying to pick a fight?"" ""Is it Finn who wants presents, or is it you?"" I said nothing. I just lifted my gaze and held his. The silence between us turned rigid. Cole seemed to lose his nerve. He looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. ""Honey, let's not fight. The day after tomorrow is Finn's birthday. I promise I'll have a big surprise ready for him."" ""Just keep your spirits up these next couple of days and get ready for the Scandinavian trip."" I nodded, then excused myself to the study under the pretense of catching up on work. The next day. At the company-wide meeting, Amelia spoke up without warning. ""While Carina's on vacation, someone will need to cover her responsibilities, won't they?"" ""I'd like to volunteer."" A smile curled at the corner of her lips, her eyes locked on mine, glinting with provocation. The room went still. Every head turned toward Cole, waiting for his response. It was only a seven-day vacation. At most, Cole himself or a deputy could have handled things. No one expected Amelia to demand authority to her face like that. It was absurd. ""Do what Amelia suggested."" Cole drew a deep breath and turned to me. ""Carina, just enjoy your time off. Leave the work to Amelia. She's perfectly capable."" Dead silence. This time, every pair of eyes in the
@muse ‘Cryogen’ Mad dream project. My younger self is losing his shit and would’ve loved to see this on Kerrang! TV 😂🤘 Mega full CGI and green-screen shoot, working with the legends at @we_are_covert to pull this one out of the bag. Huge thanks to everyone involved in this project, couldn’t have done it without such an epic team! Director: @elliottgonzo Creative Director: @metaform.studio Producer: @thedanmatthews Commissioner: @miketokeefe EP & Directors Agent:@freeagentuk Production Company: @ramshackle.productions VFX: @we_are_covert Artist Management: @threesixzero Production Manager:@ellieclapperton First AD: @andrewvanneck DOP: @mattgentlemandop 1st AC: @acadamshaikh 1st AC: @bensansom Steadicam: @richbertenshaw 2nd AC: @theoac Trainee: @beccamundycamera Jib Operator: @jcjib Jib Assist: @tobesw Gaffer: @mholownia.gaffer Spark: @jed.spark Spark: @olivercmitch Spark: @jamielightscardiff Rigger: Scott Williams Rigger: Rory Abbott Stylist: @styledbycristina Styling Assistant: @thelandoficeandsnow Art Director: @lauramoss.stylist HMUA: @makeupfxbyanna HMUA Assistant: @elliebaldwinfx HMUA Assistant: @clara.todirau Editor: @lwsjns @sitstill.co.uk Edit Assist: @serstapleton Exec Producer: @_bendubois_ Senior Producer: @kirsty_victoria ECD: @si_dewey Shoot Supervisor: @gilestoller Art Director: @hryhorjuk 3D Artists: @alexmunteanu, Artur Drozdowicz, @floridvfx, @kirillkhomenko 2D Lead: @wateone.films 2D Artists: amchale2, @dpalmermotion, @h45k, @millenzi , @Nvascha, @oniaperez.vfx Colourist: @cjcoolbear @electric Colour Producer: @gblomers @electric Artist Liaison: @tashwalker_ Runner: @ellam Runner: zamnphonix Runner Driver: @elliotttot Runner Driver: @scottyweaves Location: @thebottleyardstudios Camera Hire: @pacerentals Lighting Hire: @firebuglighting
Chapter 1 Sending Her Abroad "Help! It hurts so much!" Yvette Young screamed, her piercing voice echoing through the lavish Flynn residence. Within moments, guests surged toward the sound, their expressions a chaotic mix of shock and concern. At the top of the staircase on the second floor, Sienna Shaw stood frozen, her gaze darting between Yvette, now crumpled at the bottom of the stairs, and her own trembling hands. "How could this happen?" she murmured, her face blank as her mind struggled to process what had just occurred. Today was a big family gathering for the Flynns, with a ton of guests around. Everyone was now huddled around Yvette, chatting away. "What's going on?" "How did she fall?" "She..." Yvette struggled to get the words out, wincing in pain as she glanced up at the second floor. Instantly, everyone caught on, and the murmurs turned into shouts. "It was Sienna who pushed her!" "Oh my God! Sienna, even if you don't like Yvette, you can't do that. She's pregnant." "Exactly! You might be spoiled and stubborn, but there are boundaries." "No, it's not me..." Sienna's face turned pale. She shook her head, desperate to explain. But no one was willing to listen. "Move aside!" A deep voice sliced through the chaos. It was Josiah Flynn, who had been married Sienna for less than two months, finally showing up. "Josiah." A wave of relief washed over Sienna as she looked at him, hoping for support. But Josiah tilted his chin, glaring at her, his eyes like daggers. "How dare you!" "No. it wasn't me." Sienna gasped, shaking her head. "Then who was it?" Josiah didn't believe her at all. His handsome face twisted with disgust. "Yvette fell on her own? How many times have you bullied her? Should I list them all out for you?" Sienna was at a loss for words, her mouth opening and closing without making a sound. Yvette winced in pain, clutching her stomach and collapsing against Josiah, her voice trembling. "Josiah, it hurts... it hurts so much." "Yvette, what's wrong?" Josiah looked frantic. Just then, Miranda rushed over. "What happened?" "There's blood!" someone screamed suddenly. "She's bleeding!" Everyone turned to see a puddle of crimson spreading beneath Yvette, its size increasing rapidly. Terrified, Yvette buried her face in Josiah's neck, sobbing. "Josiah, my baby..." "Stay calm. We're going to the hospital right now," Josiah reassured her, though his face showed a different story. He picked up Yvette, cradling her in his arms, and shot a fierce look at Sienna. "You better pray the baby's okay. Otherwise..." Without finishing his sentence, he turned and rushed out—Yvette and her baby were his main concern now. Miranda glanced at Sienna and shook her head with a frown, struggling to find the right words. "Sienna, you... how could you..." "Miranda," Sienna called out, trying to explain, but Miranda simply turned and walked away. In an instant, the guests dispersed, leaving her surrounded by silence. Sienna felt dazed and could barely recall how she made it back to her room. She waited anxiously for Josiah to return, wanting to explain that she hadn't pushed Yvette. Time dragged on, and as night deepened, Josiah still hadn't returned. Before dawn, Sienna finally heard a noise downstairs. "Josiah!" She jumped off the sofa and rushed out. But as she reached the stairs, she froze in her tracks at the sound of Josiah's icy voice—"Grandma, I want a divorce." "Stop!" Miranda grabbed Josiah, her tone sharp. "What are you talking about? I promised Fiona I would take care of Sienna. "You two just tied the knot, and now you're thinking about splitting up? She's only twenty years old! Are you trying to push her over the edge?" Josiah let out a cold laugh, his eyes blazing with fury. "Grandma, Yvette lost her baby—the child she had with Howard. And Sienna? She's just fine. Who's really pushing who to the brink here?" Miranda paused, the words catching in her throat. "I never wanted to marry her. You pushed me into it," Josiah said, frustration seeping into his voice, as if he couldn't take his marriage for one more second. After a moment, he went on, "If she makes you happy, then I guess I can live with that. But now, I just can't have a woman like her as my wife anymore. "If this keeps up, I'm worried I won't be able to control myself. I don't even know what I might end up doing to her." "No!" Miranda exclaimed, panic setting in as she held onto Josiah tightly. Thinking of the grandchild she just lost, she made a hard choice. "How about this? I'll send her overseas, far away from you." After a moment of silence, Josiah chose to back down. "That's fine with me." Sienna hurriedly turned and dashed back to her room. Once she closed the door, her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor, tears poured down her cheeks. "Josiah..." She whispered bitterly, finally realizing that he truly despised her and had only married her under duress. Sienna's parents had passed away when she was young, and her grandmother, Fiona Shaw, raised her. After Fiona died in a car accident when she was fifteen, she became an orphan. Since Fiona and Miranda were close friends, Miranda took her in. Miranda loved her like family and had often said, "Sienna, how about you marry Josiah when you grow up?" Sienna would always respond with a sweet smile, "Of course." Ever since, marrying Josiah had been her dream. She studied for him, dressed up for him, and followed him everywhere, making sure no other women got close—she was his fiancée, and he was hers. 'But it turned out to be all one-sided. He said I was too controlling and didn't want to see me anymore.' Sienna covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Just then, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts, and Miranda's voice floated in, "Sienna, you up?" "Yeah, I'm awake!" Sienna quickly wiped her tears, scrambled up off the floor, and smoothed her hair before opening the door with a forced smile. "Morning, Miranda." Miranda noticed the red, puffy eyes that told of Sienna's all-night crying but chose not to mention it. Sienna's mistakes made it hard for her to forgive right away. She headed straight to the sofa and sat down. "Sit." Sienna knew what Miranda was going to say. Plus, she could tell that Miranda's attitude towards her had shifted, different from how it used to be. "Didn't you always talk about wanting to study abroad? How about this? I'll arrange for you to leave as soon as possible," Miranda said. 'She's really going to send me away.' Sienna's gaze fell, and tears began to fall once more. Miranda looked at Sienna, a pang of sympathy hitting her. She loved Sienna like family, but Yvette was still in the hospital, and she had to make things right. Taking a deep breath, Miranda began, "You really need to work on your temper. Every time a girl gets close to Josiah, you go off the rails. "I've let a lot slide, but how can you be jealous of Yvette? She's engaged to Howard." "I..." Sienna opened her mouth, but the words got stuck in her throat—even Miranda didn't believe her? "Pack your things and get ready to go." Miranda stood up, giving Sienna one last look. "Once you've changed, I'll send someone to bring you back, okay?" "Take care," Sienna said, standing up and offering a slight bow as Miranda left. Even after Miranda was out of sight, Sienna stayed there, utterly lost. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her, and she felt like she might throw up. She quickly covered her mouth and hurried to the bathroom. Chapter 2 Deep And Piercing After an intense session of vomiting that felt like it was turning her inside out, Sienna found herself in the hospital. "Doctor, what's wrong with me?" she asked, nervously waiting for the test results. The doctor didn't answer immediately. Instead, he asked, "Are you married?" Sienna paused and nodded slowly, "Yeah. I am." "Congratulations, you're going to be a mom," the doctor announced. "What?" Sienna's heart raced, her eyes wide with disbelief. The heatwave had been brutal, and for days, she'd barely had an appetite. Occasionally, she had even experienced some nausea. She had thought it was just the summer heat or maybe some ordinary stomach bug. But morning sickness? It would have been exciting news before last night. Hesitantly, Sienna asked, "Are you sure? I mean, these things can get mixed up, right?" "Mind telling me when your last period was?" the doctor asked. Sienna did a quick mental calculation, her face turning even paler. "It's been about a week overdue." "Then that's your answer," the doctor shrugged, placing the test results in front of her. "Look, blood tests don't lie. You are definitely pregnant." Sienna opened the report, her heart thumping as she read the bold print, stamped with the words—early pregnancy. She abruptly shut her eyes gripping the paper tightly. "Thanks, doc." Stepping outside the hospital, the scorching sun blared down on her, stinging her eyes and threatening to bring tears. She closed her eyes, whispering to herself, "What do I do now?" Sienna and Josiah had been married for less than two months. They hadn't spent much time together physically, and their few encounters had been rushed. At first, she thought Josiah just wasn't into that sort of thing. Truth be told, she wasn't a big fan either—it always ended up hurting. Now, the truth hit Sienna like a ton of bricks. He wasn't against intimacy; he was just against being intimate with her. Those few moments they had together were probably just for Miranda's sake. But now she was pregnant—of all times. The shock was too much, and she couldn't think straight about what to do next, or even if she should keep the baby. Sienna was only 20, too young for such a huge decision. After hours of agonizing thoughts, she realized she had to talk to Josiah. After all, he was the father. Josiah was at the hospital. Yvette had suffered a miscarriage and was still under observation, needing time to recover. To care for her, he had brought work into her hospital room. When Sienna arrived, she was stopped at the entrance by Josiah's bodyguards, Chester and James Lewis. "Mrs. Flynn, I'm afraid you'll have to wait. You can't go in just yet." "Why not?" Sienna blinked, puzzled. "Well, it's Mr. Flynn's order," Chester replied, trying to keep his tone soothing. 'Josiah's order? Is he worried I might cause trouble for Yvette, or is he just afraid Yvette would be upset if she sees me?' Sienna lowered her head, feeling defeated and hopeless. She seemed fragile, yet there was a stubborn streak in her. Clenching her fists, she pleaded, "I won't go in, but could you please tell him I need to see him? I have something really important to discuss." After a quick glance at Chester, James nodded and headed inside to deliver the message to Josiah. "Not happening," Josiah replied coldly, his indifference evident. With a sneer, he added, "Tell her to stay away from the hospital room. Don't disturb Yvette's rest." "Okay, Mr. Flynn." James headed back out and conveyed Josiah's words to Sienna. Sienna's face drained of color as she listened. Her hands, clenched tightly, shook uncontrollably. "You need to leave, Mrs. Flynn. Ms. Young could wake up at any moment. It wouldn't be good if she sees you," James added. "I'm leaving now," Sienna said, biting her lip so hard it drew blood, but she was oblivious to it. As she stepped out of the surgical building, she hesitated—she couldn't just walk away; tomorrow, she was flying out of the country. In a foreign place, she wouldn't even know what to do. So, she stood there waiting for Josiah, convinced he would come out eventually. Seconds turned into minutes, and before she knew it, her legs felt numb. The sky grew darker, and soon, a heavy rain started pouring down. Just when Sienna thought Josiah would spend the night in there, he emerged. The soft glow of the lights highlighted his handsome features, making him look charming and distinguished as ever. "Josiah!" Sienna called out, breaking into a run towards him. Josiah frowned, "Tsk, stop her!" "Yes, Mr. Flynn," Chester replied, stepping forward to block Sienna's path. Unable to get to Josiah, Sienna called out, her voice tinged with urgency, "I have something really important to tell you, Josiah!" But Josiah didn't even glance her way. The driver pulled up to the steps, and Josiah walked right to the car, opened the door, and slid in. Sienna couldn't believe it. She yelled, "Josiah, please! I really need to talk to you!" But Josiah ignored her completely. He shut the car door with a thud and told the driver, "Let's get going." Sienna's eyes widened as the car pulled away from her. Suddenly, she found a burst of energy, pushed past Chester, and sprinted after the car. "Josiah Flynn, stop! Please, just stop..." she cried, sprinting after the car with tears streaming down her cheeks. She ran so fast that the air felt like needles as it pierced her lungs. But the car kept speeding away. When Sienna reached the entrance, her foot slipped, and she crashed to the ground hard, gasping in pain. Inside the car, James looked back and said quietly, "Mr. Flynn, Mrs. Flynn fell." Josiah glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Sienna sprawled on the wet ground, soaked and covered in mud. He frowned for a moment, but quickly hardened his resolve. "It's just a fall. She's not made of glass—what's the worst that can happen? Drive faster. I don't want her to catch up and cause any trouble," he said, his voice icy. "Yes, Mr. Flynn." James pressed down on the gas, and the car sped away. Sienna watched in despair as the car shrank into the distance, her heart sinking with every second. She struggled to her feet, her arms and palms scraped, with blood seeping out and mixing with the rainwater. A sharp pain hit her, like a knife stabbing through her. She closed her eyes, and her tears flowed freely, blending with the relentless downpour. Back at Silver Beach, Sienna felt completely drained. She didn't even bother to shower; she just collapsed onto the couch, still in her wet clothes. 'What else can I do? Who can I turn to for help?' Sienna's thoughts were spinning. Suddenly, an idea flashed through her mind. She grabbed her phone and dialed a number she knew by heart. The ringing echoed in Sienna's ears, and she held her breath, a flicker of hope lighting up inside her. "Hello?" a woman's voice answered on the other end. Instantly, the spark in Sienna's eyes dimmed. "Hello? Who is this? Speak up," the woman asked, her tone edged with annoyance. "If you don't say something, I'm hanging up." And with that, the call went dead. Sienna gripped her phone tightly and bit her lip, tears streaming down her cheeks—she felt so foolish for making that call. In frustration, she hurled the phone across the room and buried her face in a pillow. The entire night blurred by. Sienna lost track of when she finally fell asleep, but when she woke up, her head throbbed painfully. The doorbell rang insistently, each chime grating on her nerves. Suddenly, the door swung open. Josiah stepped in, his handsome face shadowed with anger. Chapter 3 Asking Him For Money Seeing Sienna sitting on the sofa, Josiah narrowed his charming eyes, annoyed. "Why didn't you open the door?" 'Because I was weak,' Sienna thought. But she kept that to herself, just shaking her head instead. She figured any excuse would fall on deaf ears—he didn't like her, so in his eyes, everything she did was a mess-up. Feeling uncomfortable, she cut to the chase, "What brings you here? " She had thought she didn't want anything to do with her. "Hmph, like I had a choice," Josiah sneered, his icy gaze making his distaste crystal clear. "Grandma insisted I come and make sure you get on that plane." Sienna's heart sank. 'What am I even expecting?' "Where's your stuff? Upstairs?" Josiah asked, his impatience was palpable. Every extra second in Sienna's presence felt like a punishment for him. Sienna nodded, then shook her head. "It's up there, but I haven't finished packing." She had intended to pack last night after coming back, but she felt unwell and ended up falling asleep. "What?" Josiah's expression turned even grimmer. "You've been doing nothing all day and can't even get your bags ready?" As he saw Sienna standing there blankly, anger flared up in him—was she trying to drag this out? He then urged sharply, "What are you waiting for? Go get your stuff packed!" "Okay." Sienna nodded in a daze and hurried upstairs. But just those few steps had her breaking into a cold sweat. Something didn't feel right, and she raised her hand to her forehead. It was burning hot, and even her breath felt like fire. She finally realized that she seemed to have caught a fever after getting drenched in the rain yesterday. She hurried to her room to grab some cold medicine. Yet, as she was about to pop a pill, she stopped short—she was pregnant, and this medicine wasn't safe for her to take. The decision on what to do about the baby was still up in the air. But as long as it was in her belly, she had to take care of it every day. Just then, her stomach churned. She clamped a hand over her mouth and sprinted for the bathroom, hugging the toilet as she heaved violently. When it passed, she felt utterly wiped out. She turned on the tap, rinsed her mouth, and splashed some cold water on her face, hoping to cool the fever that was cooking her alive. "Sienna!" Josiah's low, slightly hoarse voice called out impatiently. He had run out of patience waiting and came to hurry her up. He stepped inside and found her still not ready. "Sienna, where are you? Get out here!" "Coming." Sienna wiped her face with a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. Her complexion was ghostly, her voice barely a whisper. "Josiah," she called out, dropping the usual affection. "Can I leave tomorrow instead?" She was feeling pretty rough, worried she might pass out on the plane. If that happened, being all alone, she'd really be in trouble. "What for?" Josiah frowned, suspicion etched on his face. "What trick are you trying to pull now? You tried to beg Yvette at the hospital yesterday, but I stopped you. Now you're trying to find another way?" 'Is that really how he sees me?' Sienna stared at him, her eyes welling up as she struggled to hold back the tears. "No, it's not like that. I'm really not well. I need to see a doctor." "Cut the act!" Josiah snapped, cutting her off. He scrutinized her face for a moment, then offered a thin smile. "You're not faking sickness again, are you? You think I'll buy it?" His voice turned icy. "Even if you are sick, how bad could it be? Yvette lost the baby and is stuck in the hospital, but you look just fine! Suck it up. It won't kill you." Sienna paused, her voice catching in her throat as she whispered, "I..." Josiah ignored her and strode to the closet. With a swift motion, he yanked open the doors and grabbed a packed suitcase, its handles cool against his palm. "No need to clean up anymore. Just buy what you need when you get overseas. After all, it's all on the Flynn family. I don't have time for your drama now," he said, hoisted the suitcase, and headed downstairs. Sienna bit her lip, her heart throbbing with pain. Tears cascaded down her cheeks, and she roughly wiped them away with her hand. 'Just go. What's the difference if I'm here or overseas? I'm alone, and nobody cares about my struggles or my life,' she thought, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. At the airport, Josiah didn't bother walking Sienna in. Instead, his assistant, Zach Reed, handled the check-in and guided her through security. "Mrs. Flynn, have a safe trip," Zach said, handing her the passport and ticket. "Give Mrs. Miranda Flynn a call when you land. Your living expenses will be wired every month." "Okay. Thanks," Sienna said with a nod, then headed toward the gate. ***** Time flew by, and soon a month had passed since Sienna settled into an apartment downtown in Fliraty. It was late at night, but Sienna didn't dare turn on the lights. She curled up in bed, trying to stay quiet. The door rattled as the landlord pounded on it. "Hey! Are you in there? Your rent is due. I know you're in there. Say something!" Sienna covered her ears, shook her head, and closed her eyes, silently hoping the landlord would just leave. After a moment of no response, the landlord gave up. "You really think hiding will save you money, sweetheart? Don't be naïve." "She really isn't here?" he mumbled to himself. "It's so late. Oh, God bless her." The banging stopped, and as the landlord's footsteps faded away, Sienna finally let go of her ears, releasing a long sigh. 'I managed to avoid him for another day. But what about tomorrow? What can I do then?' She wondered, fishing her phone out from under her pillow and flipping through her contacts to find Miranda's number. It had been almost a month since she arrived in Fliraty, but her living expenses hadn't come through yet. She'd been trying to call Miranda for days, but the line was always busy. Sienna took a deep breath and pressed the call button again. Soon, she heard the voicemail: "You have reached Miranda. I can't take your call right now. Please leave a message after the beep." Frustrated and unable to reach Miranda, she realized she had only one person left to call—Josiah. After a moment of hesitation, she found his number and hit the call button. The line rang, and Josiah's deep, slightly hoarse voice came through, "Hello." "I-It's me," Sienna stammered, her mouth going dry with nerves. "What do you want?" Josiah's tone sounded impatient, clearly annoyed. Sienna froze, biting her lip. "I... I need to talk to Miranda. I've been trying to call her, but I can't get through." "Hmph," Josiah replied coldly. "Why are you trying to find her? You've only been gone a few days. Are you trying to sweet-talk her into letting you come back?" "No, it's not like that," Sienna quickly denied. Josiah wasn't interested in hearing her out. "Stop calling Grandma. I changed her number to keep you from bugging her." Sienna's eyes widened in shock, tears welling up. 'I know he hates me, but isn't moving away enough? Does he really need to cut me off from Miranda? I have no other family left, and she's the only person who still shows me kindness.' "Anything else?" Josiah's patience was wearing thin. "Sending you away was supposed to help you break your bad habits. You need to learn to be independent instead of living off the Flynn family like a parasite. I'm hanging up." "Wait, I have something to say!" Sienna quickly interrupted, swallowing her pride. "It's just the living expenses... I haven't received them yet." Chapter 4 Not Even Qualified To Die Josiah smirked coldly. "So it's about money. It's only been a month. Why the hurry? Don't worry, you'll get what you need—just wait. Do you think we can't spare you a dime?" After a moment, he added, "From now on, don't call me unless it's really important. If something comes up, I'll reach out." With that, he hung up. 'He despises me that much.' Sienna stared at her phone, stunned. Her face drained of color as she realized how pathetic she must have seemed, begging him for money. She raised a hand and rested it on her still-flat belly, letting out a cold, bitter laugh. After a while, she closed her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. ***** Eight months later, in Fliraty's slums, Sienna lay asleep in bed, her belly now round and swollen. Her due date was just days away, but the doctor had warned her that her baby was breech and suggested she get to the hospital early. Sienna had only forced a smile, saying nothing—she had no money. Eight months ago, after that heartless call with Josiah, she still hadn't seen a dime for living expenses. She had burned through her savings and could no longer afford her apartment, so she moved to the slums. She never asked him for money again—she couldn't bear to be called a parasite one more time. After settling down, Sienna had found a part-time job, trying to balance work and school. Even though she wasn't making much, she managed to scrape by and feed herself. Suddenly, a loud noise yanked her out of her sleep. "Whoa, what the heck—" "Fire!" "Run for your lives!" Sienna bolted out of bed and flung open the door to a scene of pure chaos—thick smoke swirled and flames shot into the sky. Right away, fear clutched at her chest. "Sienna!" her neighbor, also an exchange student, yelled urgently. "What are you doing? It's on fire. Hurry up and get out." "Okay," Sienna replied, panic rising as she rushed to grab her backpack. But just as she turned, her neighbor grabbed her arm. "Are you crazy? Where are you going? Just get out." "I can't!" Sienna screamed, her voice cracking with desperation. All her money was still inside—every penny she had saved for her unborn child, hospital bills, and everything. "I have to go back," she said, determination in her eyes. But as soon as she took a step, a beam came crashing down right in front of her. Sienna reacted just in time, stepping back. She was okay, but the way into her place was now completely blocked. "Sienna, run!" her neighbor shouted. "No!" Sienna shook her head fiercely. She yanked her arm free from her neighbor and sprinted back inside, blocking out the chaos around her. A gust of wind drove a blaze toward her. She spun out of the way, but the flames still managed to graze her lower back, causing her to wince and cry out in pain. "Sienna!" The neighbor pulled her back hard. "You good?" "I'm fine," Sienna said, shaking her head, but the dense smoke had her coughing even more fiercely. "We gotta move. No going back in there," the neighbor urged, gripping Sienna's arm firmly. "But..." Sienna hesitated. "This smoke isn't just bad for you—it's dangerous for your little one too. If you don't listen up, you could lose it all. Go, now!" the neighbor insisted, practically dragging Sienna away. Eventually, Sienna escaped the fire zone. Her back was burned, and she hadn't managed to grab any cash. With a heavy heart, she watched as her worn-out house got swallowed by the flames, turning into ashes. 'What should I do after this?' she thought, feeling overwhelmed. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced her stomach, causing her to wince and double over. A crowd quickly formed around her, their voices a mix of concern and urgency. "What's wrong?" "She's going into labor!" "Someone call 911. We need to get her to the hospital, stat!" ***** "Ah!" "Push!" Sienna lay on the delivery bed, going through over ten hours of intense labor. Finally, she delivered her baby. When the nurse gently laid the baby in Sienna's arms, tears of joy rolled down her cheeks—this was her baby, and she wouldn't be alone anymore. With a sigh of relief, she closed her eyes and passed out. ***** When Sienna opened her eyes again, she found the same nurse standing by her bedside. The nurse was there to remind her about the hospital bills. Sienna had managed to cover a part, but it was far from enough. Clutching her newborn close, Sienna's eyes were heavy with worry, and she was silent. She knew she needed to say something, but being flat broke left her speechless. The soft-hearted nurse sighed, guessing Sienna'd been abandoned by a heartless guy. "Don't you have any family or friends? Contact them; maybe they can help," she said and then left without pushing Sienna too hard. Sienna lifted her head, eyes brimming with tears. Family and friends? She didn't have anyone. But she was a mom now, and she couldn't leave the hospital bill unpaid. She pulled her phone from her bag. After eight months, she dialed Josiah's number again. The phone rang and rang before finally connecting. "Josiah—" she began. But soon her stomach dropped as she heard the familiar voice on the other end. "Hello? Is this Sienna?" Yvette chuckled softly. "Looking for Josiah? He's not available right now, but you can tell me what's going on." 'Could she really be this nice? Doesn't she hate me?' Sienna was skeptical, but at this point, she didn't have the luxury of being choosy—she was out of options. Swallowing her pride, she nearly begged, "I-I was wondering if he could lend me some money?" "Please, I swear I'll pay him back. The moment I get my hands on some cash, I'll give it back," Sienna added, her voice wavering. She didn't dare ask Josiah for money directly again. "I get it," Yvette smiled. "Alright, I'll let him know. Talk to you later." "Thanks..." Sienna said, but the line was already cut. She clutched her phone, her heart racing. 'Josiah will lend me the money, won't he? After all, he respects Miranda, and our divorce isn't final yet.' But two days flew by, and still no money came through. Sienna stood at the hospital entrance, bag over her shoulder and her child in her arms—with no way to pay for the hospital fees, she was forced out. She gazed up at the sky, the warm winter sun causing her to squint. Tears brimmed in her eyes and then streamed down her cheeks. "No crying," Sienna scolded herself through clenched teeth. "You have no right to cry. You have a child to take care of. No tears!" But the reality was harsh. She was flat broke, and her house in the rough part of town had gone up in flames, leaving her homeless. ***** Two weeks later, Sienna ran through the streets, her child cradled in her arms. "Stop that thief! She stole something!" "Someone catch her!" The footsteps behind Sienna grew louder, and it seemed she couldn't escape. Just then, she stumbled and lunged forward. As she fell, she instinctively twisted to protect her child. Before she could get up, a store clerk who had been chasing her grabbed her and pinned her down. "Gotcha! Where do you think you're going? What'd you steal? Give it back!" The clerk yanked her bag away, unzipped it, and spilled the contents onto the sidewalk. The onlookers leaned in, murmuring amongst themselves. "Baby formula? Diapers? Why would she take these?" "Look, she's holding a baby." Mortified, Sienna squeezed her eyes shut, wishing the ground would swallow her up—her pride was completely shattered. But with her child clutched tightly to her chest, she knew she couldn't afford to quit. Chapter 5 Bringing Her Back Three years flew by in the blink of an eye. At Jeiacrity International Airport, Sienna pushed her luggage and left the security area. Her face was fresh and free of makeup, and her lively eyes scanned the bustling surroundings, reflecting a calmness that seemed beyond her years. Finally, she spotted Zaid Herring, the Flynn family driver, in the crowd, holding a sign that read "Sienna Shaw." She approached him with a small smile. "You're Ms. Shaw?" Zaid looked at her, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Yep," Sienna nodded, smiling gently. She knew she looked quite different from four years ago. She had lost weight and even grown taller due to a second growth spurt. After a brief moment of surprise, Zaid smiled warmly and said, "You've become even more beautiful." "You're flattering me, Zaid," Sienna laughed. "Come on, hop in the car," Zaid said, guiding Sienna out of the airport. "The car's right by the entrance. Miranda's been looking forward to seeing you. She's missed you like crazy." After they were outside, Sienna climbed into the car. As they drove away, she finally realized the Flynn family had only sent Zaid—Josiah hadn't shown up. Eventually, the car pulled up to the South Jeiacrity Nursing Home. There, Miranda was dealing with heart disease and was scheduled for heart surgery. That was why Sienna had been called back after three long years—the surgery was risky, and Miranda was worried something might happen. She wanted to see Sienna before the operation. As they reached the hospital room door, Miranda's voice came from inside. "Are they here yet? Why so slow?" Zaid stepped forward and knocked lightly on the door. "Come on in!" Miranda called out, her voice brimming with excitement. "Ms. Shaw, please." Zaid moved aside to let Sienna enter. "Okay." Sienna nodded and pushed the door open. "Sienna?" Miranda squinted, trying to make out the figure at the doorway. She figured it was Sienna but couldn't be entirely sure. "Miranda." Sienna strode over. "It's really you!" Miranda's eyes lit up, and she eagerly stretched out her hand. "Come closer, let me get a good look at you." Sienna complied, allowing Miranda to take her hand and examine her closely. "Oh, how wonderful. You've grown up." Miranda's eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling. Three years ago, Sienna still had a chubby face and a lot of childlike innocence. After composing herself, Miranda went on, "Josiah didn't want me to stay in touch with you. He believed you needed to learn to be independent. Being on your own really does make you grow, doesn't it?" Sienna paused but didn't argue. Instead, she nodded with a smile. "You're right." Seeing Sienna so well-behaved, Miranda felt even more relieved. She gently patted Sienna's hand and asked, "Have you changed over these years?" Sienna hesitated. She didn't answer directly, simply saying, "I was immature before. I'm sorry for worrying you, Miranda." Miranda sighed. "You used to have quite the spoiled temper. But I can't blame you entirely. I spoiled you so much that you made some big mistakes." Sienna pressed her lips together and didn't argue. Miranda tenderly stroked Sienna's hair around her temples. "I can tell you've changed. Don't hold it against me for being tough—it's for your own good. Now that you're back, focus on living well, and you're still my favorite girl." "I understand," Sienna nodded, clenching her fist quietly. After chatting for a while, Miranda felt tired and figured it was time to take a break. "I won't keep you any longer, sweetheart. You just got back today. Let Zaid take you home early so you can get some rest." "Alright," Sienna nodded and left the nursing home. Zaid drove her to Silver Beach—the home she once shared with Josiah. "Ms. Shaw, please get some good rest. I'll head out now." "Thanks, Zaid," Sienna replied while standing at the doorstep. After pausing for a moment, she took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. Her hand was trembling. If she had anywhere else to go, she wouldn't have stepped back into this place. But what could she do? She was broke. Having just returned to Jeiacrity, Sienna hadn't found a place to stay. Staying in a hotel? That was out of the question. Her money was so tight she practically wanted to count every penny. She'd rather sleep on the streets than waste it. Living in Silver Beach, she mostly had to deal with Josiah's despise. But so what? It wasn't like she was unfamiliar with that. Over the years, she'd built up a tough skin through it all. Entering the hallway, Sienna placed her suitcase in the corner. She took out her toiletries and the clothes she planned to change into for the day, leaving the rest untouched. She wasn't planning to stay long—just a few days until she found another place, and then she'd move out without fuss. Sienna headed to the downstairs guest bathroom and took a shower there, washing away the dust and exhaustion from her trip. As the sky slowly darkened, Josiah still hadn't come back. Sienna went into the kitchen, but it didn't look like any cooking had been done, and there weren't any ingredients. After a bit of digging, she finally found an almost-expired pack of pasta and a few eggs in the fridge. She boiled some water and got to work on the pasta. In the end, she put together a simple noodle soup with a poached egg on top, not a leaf of greenery in sight. "Mmm, smells so good." Sienna held the bowl and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. To her, simple, clean food was already delicious. But just as she was about to dig in, a sound from the entryway made her pause—Josiah had returned. Chapter 6 Signing The Divorce Papers As soon as Josiah stepped inside, he caught a whiff of something cooking. He scrunched up his nose and asked, "What's that smell?" The lights were on in the living room and the kitchen, and Josiah thought to himself, 'Is someone home? No way. Could it be a break-in? Nah, who breaks into a place just to cook?' After all, the security at Silver Beach was top-notch. Even a mouse from the neighbor's place would think twice before trying to sneak in. "Who is it? Show yourself," Josiah called out, his handsome face darkening. "Coming!" Sienna replied as she jogged into the living room. She stopped in front of him, hands clasped together, and spoke softly, "You're back." Josiah was taken aback. Sienna was tall and graceful, though a bit too thin. She was undeniably beautiful, with large, luminous eyes that commanded attention. He didn't recognize her, but she felt strangely familiar. Even so, Josiah remained unamused. He disliked anyone invading his space, no matter the reason. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" he demanded. Sienna paused for a second and let out a small laugh—he really didn't remember her. She pressed her lips together and replied softly, "I'm Sienna." Josiah nodded instinctively but suddenly froze. 'What did she just say? Sienna? Oh, right. Grandma mentioned bringing Sienna home.' Earlier that day, Miranda had called him about it. He had agreed then, but once he got busy, it slipped his mind. Josiah squinted as he studied Sienna. Her youthful innocence seemed gone, and upon closer inspection, hints of her younger self remained, but now she exuded a touch of feminine charm—she was more beautiful than before. 'But so what? No matter how stunning she looks, it can't mask a rotten character. Her return is perfect; some issues that have been on hold for almost four years are finally coming to a head,' he scoffed quietly. "Wait for me here for a minute. I'll be right back," Josiah said, shooting her a cold glance before heading upstairs. "Okay," Sienna replied, watching him go. She decided to stay put. After a short while, Josiah returned downstairs. He settled onto the couch and casually gestured to the seat opposite him. "Take a seat." "Sure," Sienna replied, and she sat down facing him. Josiah opened a folder and placed it on the table in front of Sienna. "Take a look. If everything's good, just sign it." 'What's this?' Sienna glanced over and clearly saw the words written in black and white—Divorce Agreement. "This should have been dealt with four years ago," Josiah said flatly. "But Grandma disagreed, so I went along with her. Now..." Sienna looked up at him. "Miranda agreed?" Josiah paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "No," he admitted. Miranda was so stubborn. Even after four years, she still wouldn't let go. She brought Sienna back, hoping they could fix things. How could that be possible? He had already made up his mind. "I don't like you, and you know that. This marriage was a mistake from the start. It's been almost four years, and it's time to end it," Josiah said, Josiah said, his voice firm and deep. Sienna listened quietly, not saying a word. Assuming she disagreed, Josiah frowned. "If you don't agree, then I'll have to file for divorce. We've been separated for over two years, so it will definitely be granted—" "No need to make it complicated," Sienna gently interrupted before he could finish. "I agree to the divorce." "You've agreed?" Josiah was momentarily taken aback. Sienna nodded, "Yes, I've agreed." This genuinely surprised Josiah. He had thought, given Sienna's obsession with him, it would take a lot more effort. But for him, this turn of events was definitely a good thing. After the initial shock wore off, Josiah composed himself and raised an eyebrow. "In that case, let's go ahead and sign it." "Okay," Sienna replied. Josiah handed a pen to Sienna. She carefully looked over the agreement and shook her head. "I don't want the house or the money. Miranda raised me, and I've always owed your family." Josiah found it amusing. "Since you stepped into the Flynn residence at fifteen, you've been supported by us, up until now." 'That even includes all the expenses for your overseas studies and living,' he added in his heart before continuing, "You don't have the ability to support yourself, so how are you going to live in the future?" A chill crept up inside Sienna. She silently clenched her hands tight and didn't argue. "Could it be..." Josiah narrowed his eyes and guessed, "You're thinking if things get tough, you might come back and try to bother me again?" "I didn't." Sienna's gaze dimmed as she decisively denied it. "If so, sign the papers quickly," Josiah said with a dismissive smile. "Alright," Sienna smiled slightly. She held the pen tightly and signed her name on both copies. Finally, Josiah felt relieved. "I'll arrange a time at the courthouse and inform you." "Okay," Sienna nodded. Josiah took the agreement and, for once, looked directly at Sienna. "Grandma is about to have surgery. Until she's recovered, we need to keep the divorce a secret. She did raise you, so can you help with this?" Sienna was surprised. He didn't even want her, yet now he expected her to play along? "Don't worry, you won't be left empty-handed. Once everything is settled, I'll throw in an extra payment as a bonus," Josiah sneered. Sienna let out a quiet, cold laugh and nodded. "Alright, I get it." "Okay then," Josiah said as he stood up. "We might need to see each other again during this time. I'll take the master bedroom. As for you..." He paused, then added, "Just pick a room downstairs and clean it up yourself." With that, he turned and headed upstairs. Sienna watched him leave, a faint smirk playing on her lips. 'Pick a room downstairs? All the downstairs rooms are for the staff? To him, I'm nothing more than a servant?' Sienna blinked, yet her eyes had already gone dry—no tears left to shed. After taking a few deep breaths, she turned and walked back to the dining room. The pasta had sat too long, turning soggy and clumped together. Sienna sat down, shoved a big mouthful into her mouth, and felt like choking. But she was starving, and she had nothing else to eat. Suddenly, Josiah burst in. "Sienna!" Taken by surprise, Sienna choked and couldn't stop coughing. "Tsk," Josiah frowned, shaking his head as he glanced at the bowl in front of her. "What did you cook? Is this even edible?" "Pasta," Sienna replied, finally feeling a bit better. "Do you need something?" "This mess is supposed to be pasta?" Josiah sneered. "You can't even boil pasta? Looks like we really spoiled you over the years." Sienna's lips parted slightly, hiding a smirk. "Oh, right," Josiah remembered why he was there and pointed at her bowl, his voice cold. "Don't cook here again. The kitchen is a smoky, greasy mess because of you. Just eat at a restaurant. Got it?" Chapter 7 The Once Foolish Self "Got it," Sienna nodded. Noticing Josiah's disdainful expression, she added, "I'll open the windows to air it out soon, so there won't be any smell left. I'll also clean the kitchen." "You? You can't even cook pasta properly, and you think you can clean? Just wait. The servant will be here tomorrow," Josiah scoffed, then turned and headed upstairs. 'Finally, he's gone.' Sienna sighed in relief and sat back down. The pasta was already clumpy, and now it looked even less appetizing. She blinked, picked up her fork without much expression, and not long after, she finished it off. She then opened the window to let in some fresh air and cleaned up the kitchen. Once done, she lay down on the couch in the living room, planning to get by here for a couple of days. There was no point in bothering with the guest room—she didn't want to leave any lingering smells that might give Josiah a reason to complain. Tomorrow, she'd start looking for a place of her own. ***** The next morning, Sienna woke up early, well before Josiah came downstairs. She needed to find a job and a new place to live—quickly. The night before, Sienna had mapped out her route. As soon as she stepped out, she made a beeline for the bus stop and then transferred to the subway. She was on her way to Maze—an entertainment hotspot in Jeiacrity. Her major was modern dance, and she was there to apply as a dancer. Everyone in Jeiacrity knows that Maze was a flashy place where wealthy folks blow their cash to have a good time. But Sienna didn't feel ashamed. She was there to make a living and besides, she was selling her skills, not doing anything shady. When Sienna arrived at Maze, she went find the manager named Henry White, as Hannah had told her to. Since it was the daytime, Maze wasn't open yet, so she soon met Henry. "Hello, Mr. White," Sienna greeted confidently. "Hi," Henry replied, a faint grin on his face. "You must be the one Ms. Stone was talking about, right? What was your name again?" Sienna smiled, "Sienna Shaw." "Ah, that's right," Henry said, giving her a thorough look. Knowing she came highly recommended and noticing her striking appearance, he nodded, a wider smile forming. "Sienna, you're hired." "What?" Sienna felt a mix of delight and surprise. Even with Hannah's recommendation, she didn't expect it to go this smoothly. "Thank you, Mr. White." "You're so polite," Henry chuckled, waving his hand. "With Ms. Stone vouching for you, how could I say no? Besides, I'm sure you'll be a hit at Maze." After a pause, he continued, "Alright, soon you'll need to get measured for your costume. We're getting everything ready for you. How about Friday? It's a busy day—great for your debut performance." "Sounds great," Sienna nodded eagerly. "Then it's settled." "Thank you, Mr. White." As soon as Sienna stepped out of Maze, she dialed Hannah. The call rang twice before it switched to voicemail. But just a moment later, her phone vibrated—Hannah was returning the call. "Seriously..." Sienna said with a smile. "Why do you always do this?" Hannah laughed from the other end. "International calls are pricey. You don't have much money, so I'm just trying to save you some. Isn't that nice?" "Yeah," Sienna replied gratefully, pressing her lips together. "I know, Hannah, thank you. And thanks for the job too." "You made it?" Hannah paused for a moment before breaking into a joyful laugh. "I told you, you'd be fine. Don't worry, I'll take care of you here." Since international calls were expensive, they kept their conversation brief and to the point. Before long, they wrapped up the call. Then Sienna set out to find a place to live. She checked out several apartments, but none of them felt right. The ones she liked were too pricey, and the cheaper ones made her worry about safety. Just as she was about to move on to the next place, her phone rang, and it was Miranda. Sienna quickly swiped to answer. "Miranda?" "Sienna, where are you?" Miranda asked. Sienna glanced at the bustling crowd and traffic around her. "Just taking a walk. Jeiacrity has changed a lot." "Yeah," Miranda chuckled. "Take your time. Now that you're back, just explore—you'll get used to it in no time." Suddenly, she shifted gears and said, "You've been away from Jeiacrity for four years. I'm planning a welcome party for you." "Huh?" Sienna was taken aback, finding it a bit over the top. "No need for that, Miranda." "No need?" Miranda argued, "You're Josiah's wife. Now that you're back, everyone should see you. I don't want people to think Josiah is still single." Sienna couldn't help but smirk—technically, Josiah was still single. "It's really not necessary," she refused again. Miranda shook her head and sighed. "Fiona was worried about you on her deathbed, so she made me promise to look out for you. But I haven't been checking on you enough these past years. Are you upset with me?" "No, I'm not," Sienna said quickly, realizing she couldn't refuse. "Alright, let's hit that party." She figured making an appearance was the least she could do to repay Miranda for raising her. "That's my girl," Miranda said, beaming. "I'll get everything all set up for you." "Thanks, Miranda," Sienna said. After ending the call, she let out a deep sigh, her enthusiasm for apartment hunting fading. With the day already winding down, she decided to call it quits and head back to Silver Beach. Once she got off the bus, she grabbed a few loaves of bread at the supermarket nearby—Josiah wouldn't let her use the stove. She just felt bummed that there wasn't a market nearby to find cheaper rolls. Back at Silver Beach, Sienna ate the bread with plain water and stored the rest in the fridge, which was enough for a few meals. Then, she changed into her practice clothes and began dancing. As a dancer, she knew she couldn't afford to miss a day of practice—one minute on stage took years of practice off stage. That night, Josiah didn't come home, and Sienna couldn't have been less bothered. Truth was, even during their two months of marriage, he hadn't been home every night. Back then, she'd clung to him and asked, "Where were you last night?" Josiah had only rolled his eyes, his voice edged with irritation. "It's none of your business. Being Mrs. Josiah doesn't give you the right to meddle in my life. "You've got your wish marrying me, and I'll take care of everything you need. Just stick to your own affairs, alright?" Reflecting on the past, Sienna couldn't help but acknowledge the naivety that had clouded her judgment. A night passed without dreams, and the next day, Sienna headed out to search for a house. She browsed through countless listings on rental websites, checking each one carefully. After a long day of searching, she finally found one that caught her eye. Just as she was about to call the agent, her phone rang, and it was Josiah. Sienna kept her face neutral as she answered. "Hello?" "Where are you? Why aren't you at Silver Beach?" Josiah asked, his frustration obvious. 'Is he at Silver Beach now?' Sienna felt a jolt of surprise. Instead of answering, she shot back, "What's up?" "You're seriously asking me?" Josiah replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Did you forget about the welcome party Grandma set up for you? She mentioned it, right?" Now Sienna remembered. "That's tonight?" "Yes! Get back here immediately!" Chapter 8 His Back Sienna hurried back to Silver Beach but didn't see Josiah. So, she figured she'd head to the bathroom first. But just as she opened the door, there he was—shirtless. "Sienna Shaw!" Josiah's face darkened as he pulled on his shirt, his voice low and tense. "Sorry!" Sienna quickly shut the door, her heart pounding. 'How was I supposed to know he was in there? And why's he using the bathroom on the first floor anyway?' Inside the room, Josiah's face was thunderous, and he quickly looked over his shoulder. 'She didn't see anything, did she?' Before long, Josiah emerged, now fully dressed. He pointed at a large box on the coffee table and said, "Go change into this." Sienna figured there had to be a dress inside. The Flynn family was hosting this event for her, and they weren't the type to do things by halves. "Alright," she nodded, picking up the box. A few moments later, Sienna stepped out wearing an almond-colored off-shoulder evening dress that flowed down to the floor. She had done a quick base makeup routine, lightly defined her eyebrows, and added some lipstick for the occasion. Luckily, even though she was broke, for her job, she had some basic makeup supplies. Even with just a few light touches, her naturally striking features really shone through. Josiah looked at her, narrowing his eyes instinctively. She was tall with tender skin, her long hair pulled back to reveal her delicate swan-like neck. She was breathtaking—beyond words. For a moment, Josiah was taken aback. She had been cute, but now, in her early twenties, she had blossomed. She had swapped her girlish innocence for the charm of a sophisticated woman. Josiah studied her and asked, "Did you see anything just now?" "See what?" Sienna replied, genuinely confused—what was there to see? It looked like she really didn't notice his back. Josiah turned and started walking. "Keep up."
Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
Logan Bale, an immortal who has walked the earth for a thousand years, fulfills a dying promise to his disciple—to protect his family for three years. To honor that vow, he marries his disciple's granddaughter, only to be met with her family's scorn and cruelty. Yet undeterred, he endures their contempt with quiet resolve, holding fast to one promise of his own: to walk away the moment those three years come to an end.
Logan Bale, an immortal who has walked the earth for a thousand years, fulfills a dying promise to his disciple—to protect his family for three years. To honor that vow, he marries his disciple's granddaughter, only to be met with her family's scorn and cruelty. Yet undeterred, he endures their contempt with quiet resolve, holding fast to one promise of his own: to walk away the moment those three years come to an end.
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Logan Bale, an immortal who has walked the earth for a thousand years, fulfills a dying promise to his disciple—to protect his family for three years. To honor that vow, he marries his disciple's granddaughter, only to be met with her family's scorn and cruelty. Yet undeterred, he endures their contempt with quiet resolve, holding fast to one promise of his own: to walk away the moment those three years come to an end.
Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
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This year, over Easter weekend, my husband did something unprecedented: he told me to take a vacation. He even booked me a seven-day trip to Scandinavia. I thought he'd finally learned to be considerate. Then I overheard his conversation with our son. ""Daddy, you married Aunt Amelia. What about Mommy?"" My son's voice was small, confused. ""It's just a pretend marriage."" My husband chuckled softly. ""Be a good boy, Finn Abbott. Remember, this is our secret. Don't tell Mommy, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."" My head buzzed like a struck bell. I stood frozen for a long time, then turned and went downstairs to stand in the cold wind. If he wanted to make up for lost time with Amelia Galloway, then I had every right to chase the dreams I'd abandoned. Once I left for Scandinavia, I wouldn't be coming back. ... After I'd calmed down, I headed back upstairs and ran straight into Cole Farley in the hallway. I looked at his flashy red suit and frowned. ""I thought you hated red."" ""That was then, this is now. Red's in style this year. Besides, I'm helping a buddy try on wedding outfits, so I figured I should dress festive."" Cole Farley rattled off excuses in a single breath. But it hit me all at once. Red was Amelia Galloway's favorite color. And ever since Amelia had returned from abroad, Cole's closet had filled up with red jackets, red underwear, red socks. It had all been right there in front of me. ""Trying on wedding outfits? Let me drive you."" I kept my voice light. ""No, no, that's okay!"" Cole shook his head so fast it was almost comical. ""Why would a woman want to tag along for guys' stuff?"" ""I'll bring you and Finn something back when I'm done."" He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word, and bolted out the door. A sharp pain twisted through my chest. I almost called out to stop him, but in the end, I just shook my head. Everyone thought Cole Farley and I were the perfect couple, a fairy-tale romance in life and an unstoppable team in business. He hadn't looked down on my humble background. He'd married me without hesitation. I'd worked nearly every day of every year, pulling Farley Group back from the brink of bankruptcy more times than I could count. People called me a workaholic, a machine. Ten years side by side. We'd built a beautiful son and rebuilt the Farley Group into something magnificent. And yet, I was only now discovering that Cole Farley had been carrying Amelia Galloway in his heart all along. I walked through the front door. ""Mommy."" Finn rushed over and threw his arms around my legs. ""No matter what happens, you'll never leave me and Daddy, right?"" He seemed to sense something. His small face was tight with fear. Pain lanced through my chest. I crouched down and stroked his hair. ""If Mommy and Daddy separated one day, who would you want to go with?"" Finn went still. Then his eyes welled with tears. ""I'm sorry."" I pulled him into a hug. ""Mommy's going to go make dinner, okay?"" Finn was only eight years old. Two adults' problems should never be a child's burden. We could have hired someone to cook, but Finn and Cole both loved my home cooking. I knew every preference and every aversion the two of them had. Tonight I made Finn's favorites: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, hearty meatballs, and egg pancakes fresh off the griddle. When Finn saw the spread on the table, he burst into tears. He looked up at me. ""Mommy."" ""You already know about Aunt Amelia marrying Daddy, don't you?"" ""Daddy told me it's just a pretend marriage. Mommy, please don't be mad, okay? Daddy loves you."" I let out a quiet sigh and gathered Finn into my arms. I knew. His little head couldn't hold all the tangled complications of the adult world. He simply believed his father and hoped, with everything he had, that Mommy and Daddy would stay together. Chapter 2 Unfortunately, the adult world was never that simple. After dinner, I spotted a social media post from one of Cole's so-called buddies and couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The wedding attire photos didn't show a face, but the small red mole on the neck was unmistakable. Cole had the same one. In another photo, a man and a woman held hands, fingers intertwined. The ring finger bore a clear indentation where a band had been. The watch on the man's wrist was one I recognized. It belonged to Amelia. The caption read: ""The moon I once lost has come back to light my world again."" The words looked familiar. I rushed into the study and moved Cole's laptop aside. Beneath it sat a notebook. The moment I flipped it open, that exact line stared back at me. Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: this account didn't belong to some buddy. It was Cole's own. ""A trip to Scandinavia."" ""A made-up friend's wedding and a fake account."" ""Cole, to deceive me, to be with Amelia, you actually came up with schemes this absurd."" I muttered to myself, then picked up my phone and sent a message. Save me a spot on the partnership. Also, have your lawyer draft a divorce agreement for me. Months ago, Jordan Ellis had invited me to start a business in Scandinavia, offering me a thirty percent stake without requiring a single dollar of investment. The other two partners had agreed because they valued my abilities. But I had a husband and a child. All I'd wanted was stability, so I kept turning her down. Now it was time to stop holding myself back. Close to midnight, Cole stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He carried no gifts. His shirt collar hung open, and a smear of lipstick marked the fabric. He looked like a mess. ""Honey, you're still up? Waiting for me again?"" He flashed me a grin. ""You bad girl, always keeping me on my toes."" He turned and headed straight for the bathroom. Before, he would have hugged me first. The thought made my heart sink. Suddenly, I heard muffled sobbing and hurried to Finn's room. ""What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"" Finn shook his head. His small finger pointed at the phone screen. I looked down. Olive Fox had posted on social media. She sat in front of a pink piano, hugging a tablet, beaming with joy. The caption read: Thank you to the best dad in the whole world for my limited-edition custom piano. ""Mom."" ""I saw that piano on Dad's computer. And the tablet too."" That one hurt sentence nearly shattered every wall I'd built. I finally understood why Finn was crying. Cole always said, ""Boys need to be raised tough, or he'll grow up reckless with money."" So he was strict with Finn. Whatever toy the boy wanted, the answer was almost always no. Even this phone was one I'd passed down to Finn myself. I would sneak Finn out for fun whenever I could. Every time Cole found out, he'd get angry with me. That was why he'd tried to buy Finn's silence with a toy car. And today, before leaving, he'd promised to bring gifts for both me and Finn. He'd come home empty-handed. Lying to me and deceiving me was one thing. But how could he lavish another woman's daughter with everything she wanted while being so cruel and dishonest to his own son? ""It's okay, sweetheart."" ""From now on, Mommy will buy you everything."" I comforted Finn and stayed until he fell asleep, then went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The moment Cole came out, I pressed down my anger and asked, ""Didn't you say you were bringing Finn a gift?"" ""Oh, I forgot."" Cole gave an awkward laugh, rushed over, and wrapped his arms around me. ""I'll get him something next time. Boys need to be raised tough anyway."" Chapter 3 He spoke softly, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. There was a time when my body responded to him on instinct, when a touch like that would have undone me completely. Now I felt nothing. ""I noticed Olive gets whatever she wants. Her family just buys it. She was sitting on a pink piano today, hugging a tablet, grinning from ear to ear."" I said it deliberately, letting the barb land. Cole froze for a beat, then exploded. He shot to his feet, brow furrowed. ""Why do you always have to compare him to other people?"" ""It's a gift. One gift. What's with the passive-aggressive comments? Are you trying to pick a fight?"" ""Is it Finn who wants presents, or is it you?"" I said nothing. I just lifted my gaze and held his. The silence between us turned rigid. Cole seemed to lose his nerve. He looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. ""Honey, let's not fight. The day after tomorrow is Finn's birthday. I promise I'll have a big surprise ready for him."" ""Just keep your spirits up these next couple of days and get ready for the Scandinavian trip."" I nodded, then excused myself to the study under the pretense of catching up on work. The next day. At the company-wide meeting, Amelia spoke up without warning. ""While Carina's on vacation, someone will need to cover her responsibilities, won't they?"" ""I'd like to volunteer."" A smile curled at the corner of her lips, her eyes locked on mine, glinting with provocation. The room went still. Every head turned toward Cole, waiting for his response. It was only a seven-day vacation. At most, Cole himself or a deputy could have handled things. No one expected Amelia to demand authority to her face like that. It was absurd. ""Do what Amelia suggested."" Cole drew a deep breath and turned to me. ""Carina, just enjoy your time off. Leave the work to Amelia. She's perfectly capable."" Dead silence. This time, every pair of eyes in the
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This year, over Easter weekend, my husband did something unprecedented: he told me to take a vacation. He even booked me a seven-day trip to Scandinavia. I thought he'd finally learned to be considerate. Then I overheard his conversation with our son. ""Daddy, you married Aunt Amelia. What about Mommy?"" My son's voice was small, confused. ""It's just a pretend marriage."" My husband chuckled softly. ""Be a good boy, Finn Abbott. Remember, this is our secret. Don't tell Mommy, and I'll buy you that toy car you've been wanting."" My head buzzed like a struck bell. I stood frozen for a long time, then turned and went downstairs to stand in the cold wind. If he wanted to make up for lost time with Amelia Galloway, then I had every right to chase the dreams I'd abandoned. Once I left for Scandinavia, I wouldn't be coming back. ... After I'd calmed down, I headed back upstairs and ran straight into Cole Farley in the hallway. I looked at his flashy red suit and frowned. ""I thought you hated red."" ""That was then, this is now. Red's in style this year. Besides, I'm helping a buddy try on wedding outfits, so I figured I should dress festive."" Cole Farley rattled off excuses in a single breath. But it hit me all at once. Red was Amelia Galloway's favorite color. And ever since Amelia had returned from abroad, Cole's closet had filled up with red jackets, red underwear, red socks. It had all been right there in front of me. ""Trying on wedding outfits? Let me drive you."" I kept my voice light. ""No, no, that's okay!"" Cole shook his head so fast it was almost comical. ""Why would a woman want to tag along for guys' stuff?"" ""I'll bring you and Finn something back when I'm done."" He kissed my forehead, didn't wait to hear another word, and bolted out the door. A sharp pain twisted through my chest. I almost called out to stop him, but in the end, I just shook my head. Everyone thought Cole Farley and I were the perfect couple, a fairy-tale romance in life and an unstoppable team in business. He hadn't looked down on my humble background. He'd married me without hesitation. I'd worked nearly every day of every year, pulling Farley Group back from the brink of bankruptcy more times than I could count. People called me a workaholic, a machine. Ten years side by side. We'd built a beautiful son and rebuilt the Farley Group into something magnificent. And yet, I was only now discovering that Cole Farley had been carrying Amelia Galloway in his heart all along. I walked through the front door. ""Mommy."" Finn rushed over and threw his arms around my legs. ""No matter what happens, you'll never leave me and Daddy, right?"" He seemed to sense something. His small face was tight with fear. Pain lanced through my chest. I crouched down and stroked his hair. ""If Mommy and Daddy separated one day, who would you want to go with?"" Finn went still. Then his eyes welled with tears. ""I'm sorry."" I pulled him into a hug. ""Mommy's going to go make dinner, okay?"" Finn was only eight years old. Two adults' problems should never be a child's burden. We could have hired someone to cook, but Finn and Cole both loved my home cooking. I knew every preference and every aversion the two of them had. Tonight I made Finn's favorites: scrambled eggs with tomatoes, hearty meatballs, and egg pancakes fresh off the griddle. When Finn saw the spread on the table, he burst into tears. He looked up at me. ""Mommy."" ""You already know about Aunt Amelia marrying Daddy, don't you?"" ""Daddy told me it's just a pretend marriage. Mommy, please don't be mad, okay? Daddy loves you."" I let out a quiet sigh and gathered Finn into my arms. I knew. His little head couldn't hold all the tangled complications of the adult world. He simply believed his father and hoped, with everything he had, that Mommy and Daddy would stay together. Chapter 2 Unfortunately, the adult world was never that simple. After dinner, I spotted a social media post from one of Cole's so-called buddies and couldn't help raising an eyebrow. The wedding attire photos didn't show a face, but the small red mole on the neck was unmistakable. Cole had the same one. In another photo, a man and a woman held hands, fingers intertwined. The ring finger bore a clear indentation where a band had been. The watch on the man's wrist was one I recognized. It belonged to Amelia. The caption read: ""The moon I once lost has come back to light my world again."" The words looked familiar. I rushed into the study and moved Cole's laptop aside. Beneath it sat a notebook. The moment I flipped it open, that exact line stared back at me. Every piece of evidence pointed to the same conclusion: this account didn't belong to some buddy. It was Cole's own. ""A trip to Scandinavia."" ""A made-up friend's wedding and a fake account."" ""Cole, to deceive me, to be with Amelia, you actually came up with schemes this absurd."" I muttered to myself, then picked up my phone and sent a message. Save me a spot on the partnership. Also, have your lawyer draft a divorce agreement for me. Months ago, Jordan Ellis had invited me to start a business in Scandinavia, offering me a thirty percent stake without requiring a single dollar of investment. The other two partners had agreed because they valued my abilities. But I had a husband and a child. All I'd wanted was stability, so I kept turning her down. Now it was time to stop holding myself back. Close to midnight, Cole stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. He carried no gifts. His shirt collar hung open, and a smear of lipstick marked the fabric. He looked like a mess. ""Honey, you're still up? Waiting for me again?"" He flashed me a grin. ""You bad girl, always keeping me on my toes."" He turned and headed straight for the bathroom. Before, he would have hugged me first. The thought made my heart sink. Suddenly, I heard muffled sobbing and hurried to Finn's room. ""What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"" Finn shook his head. His small finger pointed at the phone screen. I looked down. Olive Fox had posted on social media. She sat in front of a pink piano, hugging a tablet, beaming with joy. The caption read: Thank you to the best dad in the whole world for my limited-edition custom piano. ""Mom."" ""I saw that piano on Dad's computer. And the tablet too."" That one hurt sentence nearly shattered every wall I'd built. I finally understood why Finn was crying. Cole always said, ""Boys need to be raised tough, or he'll grow up reckless with money."" So he was strict with Finn. Whatever toy the boy wanted, the answer was almost always no. Even this phone was one I'd passed down to Finn myself. I would sneak Finn out for fun whenever I could. Every time Cole found out, he'd get angry with me. That was why he'd tried to buy Finn's silence with a toy car. And today, before leaving, he'd promised to bring gifts for both me and Finn. He'd come home empty-handed. Lying to me and deceiving me was one thing. But how could he lavish another woman's daughter with everything she wanted while being so cruel and dishonest to his own son? ""It's okay, sweetheart."" ""From now on, Mommy will buy you everything."" I comforted Finn and stayed until he fell asleep, then went back to the living room and sat on the couch. The moment Cole came out, I pressed down my anger and asked, ""Didn't you say you were bringing Finn a gift?"" ""Oh, I forgot."" Cole gave an awkward laugh, rushed over, and wrapped his arms around me. ""I'll get him something next time. Boys need to be raised tough anyway."" Chapter 3 He spoke softly, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. There was a time when my body responded to him on instinct, when a touch like that would have undone me completely. Now I felt nothing. ""I noticed Olive gets whatever she wants. Her family just buys it. She was sitting on a pink piano today, hugging a tablet, grinning from ear to ear."" I said it deliberately, letting the barb land. Cole froze for a beat, then exploded. He shot to his feet, brow furrowed. ""Why do you always have to compare him to other people?"" ""It's a gift. One gift. What's with the passive-aggressive comments? Are you trying to pick a fight?"" ""Is it Finn who wants presents, or is it you?"" I said nothing. I just lifted my gaze and held his. The silence between us turned rigid. Cole seemed to lose his nerve. He looked away, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened considerably. ""Honey, let's not fight. The day after tomorrow is Finn's birthday. I promise I'll have a big surprise ready for him."" ""Just keep your spirits up these next couple of days and get ready for the Scandinavian trip."" I nodded, then excused myself to the study under the pretense of catching up on work. The next day. At the company-wide meeting, Amelia spoke up without warning. ""While Carina's on vacation, someone will need to cover her responsibilities, won't they?"" ""I'd like to volunteer."" A smile curled at the corner of her lips, her eyes locked on mine, glinting with provocation. The room went still. Every head turned toward Cole, waiting for his response. It was only a seven-day vacation. At most, Cole himself or a deputy could have handled things. No one expected Amelia to demand authority to her face like that. It was absurd. ""Do what Amelia suggested."" Cole drew a deep breath and turned to me. ""Carina, just enjoy your time off. Leave the work to Amelia. She's perfectly capable."" Dead silence. This time, every pair of eyes in the
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Mike Abbot has loved Elsa Parker for fifteen years—devoting himself to her, even giving up his passion for art. But everything shatters when he watches her fall for someone else. Heartbroken, Mike changes his name and leaves the country, never expecting that Elsa will one day search the world for the man she let slip away.
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A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
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A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
Logan Bale, an immortal who has walked the earth for a thousand years, fulfills a dying promise to his disciple—to protect his family for three years. To honor that vow, he marries his disciple's granddaughter, only to be met with her family's scorn and cruelty. Yet undeterred, he endures their contempt with quiet resolve, holding fast to one promise of his own: to walk away the moment those three years come to an end.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
A rush of excitement rises within me as I head down the stairs. I try to keep it in check, unwilling to spoil the surprise I've arranged for later. A smile spreads across my face the moment I walk into the kitchen and spot my attractive husband at the stove preparing breakfast. The scent of bacon, which would usually make my mouth water, instead sends a wave of nausea through me. I quickly reach for my glass of orange juice on the table and nearly finish it in a single gulp. "Thirsty, babe?" Abbott asks. "I am. What are your plans today?" A flicker passes through his eyes, but it disappears just as fast. He steps closer until he stands directly in front of me, slipping an arm around my waist and pulling me flush against him. "I've got a meeting with a new client, but I promise I'll be home on time," he says. He's been putting in long hours these past few months, but I understand how much his career matters to him. His dedication has given me the freedom to chase my writing dream, so complaining has never crossed my mind. "I'm glad you'll be home because I've got a surprise for you tonight." "I really am sorry about the insane hours I've been working, Camille. You know how much I love you, right?" he asks. "Of course I do. I would never complain about your work, Abbott. That doesn't mean I don't miss you, but I know how much becoming partner means to you." His grip tightens, and he lowers his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that quickly turns intense. I always crave my husband, but right now something feels different—maybe the hormones—but the need is overwhelming. He turns me around and bends me over the table. Thank god I picked a sundress today. In seconds, my panties are gone, and he presses himself against my entrance. The moment he pushes inside me, I feel completely consumed by him. It doesn't take long before he drives me over the edge twice, finally releasing deep within me. A quiet smile forms when I think about how, if I weren't already pregnant, I likely would be now. Six months ago, we decided to start trying for a baby, so we stopped using protection. After cleaning me up, he turns me to face him again and places another kiss on my lips. "What do you have planned today?" he asks. "I've got a meeting with Belinda, and I'm thinking of spending some time with Adela. It feels like we haven't seen each other in weeks. She's been buried in a new project." I could swear I feel him tense slightly, though I can't imagine why. "What if she's still busy? What will you do after your meeting with Belinda?" he asks. "I'll probably head to my favorite café and write for a few hours. This new book is different for me, and I'm really excited to dive into it." "I didn't realize you finished the last one," he says. "That's because you don't really take an interest in my books, Abbott." "That's not true," he insists. I give him a look that says otherwise. "How many books have I written?" He stares at me, initially confused, before a mix of guilt and sadness crosses his face. "I'm so sorry, Camille. I've been a pretty shitty husband lately. I'll do better, I promise." "Abbott, you are nowhere near a shitty husband. I'm not upset. I know you support my writing. You're the one who encouraged me to quit and pursue it full-time." "I do support you, Camille. You're incredible, and I'm sorry I don't say it enough. I should know how many books my wife has written. So… how many?" I smile at him. "Ten have been published." A giggle escapes me when I see the shock on his face. "You've written ten books in two years? That's incredible, Camille. I'm so proud of you," he says. "That means everything to me, Abbott. I love you." I lean in and kiss him, and his arms tighten around me. "I love you so much, Camille. Please don't ever leave me," he says. "Why would I ever leave you? You're my husband. You couldn't get rid of me even if you tried." He smiles, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you okay, love?" "I'm fine, sweetheart. I just know I haven't been showing you how important you are. I can't lose you," he says. "That's never going to happen, Abbott. Now, as much as I hate leaving your arms—they feel way too good around me—I need to get going. I don't want to be late for my meeting with Belinda." He kisses me once more before I head out to my car. The moment I settle into the driver's seat, I call Adela. It rings three times before she answers. Chapter 2 The Silence Before the Truth "Hey, Cam. How are you?" she asks. We've been best friends since high school, and we even went to the same college—that's where I met Abbott. I swear it was love at first sight, and we've been inseparable ever since. "I'm good, but I miss my best friend." "I miss you too. This project is pulling me in every direction," she says. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be making you feel guilty. I know how much your job matters to you. It's funny—I was just saying the same thing to Abbott before I left. The two of you are so alike when it comes to your careers." I glance at my phone, wondering if the call dropped before she finally speaks again. "That doesn't mean you're not important, Camille. You know I love you. Once I wrap up this project, maybe we can go on a girls' trip," she says. "That sounds amazing. And I have something important to tell you—but I need to tell Abbott first. Can we have lunch tomorrow?" There's another long pause before she responds. "I'll make time. You matter to me, Camille. I hope you know that," she says. "I do, and you matter to me too. I love you, Adela." "I love you too. I'm pulling up to work now, but we'll talk soon," she says before ending the call. I park my car and walk into the publishing company. When I reach the front desk, Della greets me with a smile. "Camille, it's always good to see you. Belinda will be with you shortly—feel free to have a seat," she says. "It's good to see you as well, Della." I smile as she retrieves my latest book from her drawer and hands it over with a bashful expression. The story is a small-town romance set around the holiday season. Ever since I began writing, I have signed every copy for her. Using my pen name as I always do, I add a "Merry Christmas" at the end. With only two weeks left until the holiday, it easily stands as my favorite time of year. Most of my fondest memories come from celebrating Christmas with my grandmother. "She's ready to see you now, Camille," Della says, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Thank you," I reply as I head toward the office. The moment I step inside, I am wrapped in a warm embrace. "There's my favorite number one author," she says, and I let out a soft laugh. "And you're my favorite editor." "I'm your only editor, but I'll take the compliment. Come, have a seat," she says, guiding me to the couch. "So, how have you been feeling?" she asks. "Honestly, great. I've already begun working on another book. It's just a few chapters in, but I'm really excited. I'm planning to try the werewolf romance idea we discussed." "I thought we agreed you'd take a break after this one," she reminds me. "Aren't you supposed to be encouraging me to write?" "You know you're more than just a writer to me, Camille. I see you as a friend. I don't want you pushing yourself too hard. You've already released more books than all my other authors put together," she says. "I promise I'm okay. Besides, this story is practically demanding to be written," I reply with a light laugh. "Alright, but promise me you'll take some time to actually enjoy the holiday," she says. "I promise." An hour later, I leave Belinda's office and make my way to the bakery. I pick up Abbott's favorite cupcakes, arranged to spell out the word "daddy." I also plan to cook his favorite meal. Once I have everything, I head back home. We purchased the house shortly after getting married. It's a beautiful two-story place in a gated community, complete with a spacious backyard—something we both wanted. We agreed early on that we'd need a large yard for our future children. While we still debate how many kids to have, I know once we welcome our first, he'll come around to my idea of three instead of two. I've always envisioned having three children. As I turn onto our street, I smile when I spot my husband's car. He must have come back for something. That smile quickly disappears when I notice Adela's car parked beside his. A wave of unease washes over me, but I force it down. There has to be a reasonable explanation for both my husband and my best friend being at our house when they each said they had work. Maybe they're planning something I'm not supposed to know about. I trust them completely—more than anything. They would never intentionally hurt me. Still, my stomach twists nervously as I pull over and park. I take a steadying breath before grabbing the bags and cupcakes from the backseat. My pace slows as I walk along the path leading to the front door. When I push it open, relief briefly settles over me as I hear them talking in the living room. Guilt creeps in for ever doubting them. That feeling lasts only until Adela speaks again. "We can't keep doing this without telling her, Bott." My throat tightens as I freeze in place. Chapter 3 Let’s Talk Camille's POV "I know… the guilt is tearing me apart. I love Camille. I can't lose her, Adela," Abbott says. "Bott, what do you think she wants to talk to you about tonight? Do you think she's starting to suspect what's been happening between us?" Adela asks, and my legs feel like they might collapse beneath me. They've been having an affair. Abbott has been sleeping with my best friend. My best friend has been fucking my husband. "No, if Camille suspected anything, I'd be able to tell. My wife can't keep things from me," he says. A surge of anger unlike anything I've ever felt rises inside me. I hesitate, caught between storming into the room and screaming or simply walking away. The anger takes over, and I let everything fall from my hands. Silence fills the house, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. When Abbott appears first, his face is filled with shock. "Camille," he says, just as Adela steps into view behind him. When our eyes meet, I expect to see satisfaction in hers, but instead, she looks frightened. Abbott moves closer, drawing my focus back to him. "Don't come any closer." "Cam, please, let's just talk," Adela pleads. "Don't ever call me that again. You've been fucking my husband for months. You don't get to call me that anymore." "Camille, please, sit down and let us explain," Abbott urges. "So this is why you didn't want me to leave you this morning. You've been fucking my best friend. There's nothing to explain. I never believed either of you would betray me, but clearly I was wrong." Tears streak down my face, but I refuse to acknowledge them. "Camille, there's a lot we need to explain. I love you. I've always loved you. You're everything to me. Adela loves you too. She wants to be part of our marriage, part of our family. I know we handled this badly, but we want all three of us to be together," he says. I open my mouth, then close it again, his words leaving me speechless. Is this real? Did he actually just suggest a polyamorous relationship after months of betrayal? "You can't be serious." "We are serious. I've loved you since high school. My feelings for Abbott have grown into love over time, but they don't come close to what I feel for you, Cam," Adela says. "Let me make sure I understand this." "You've been fucking my husband behind my back. You're in love with him, but I'm supposed to accept it because you claim to love me too. You really think that makes what you've fucking done okay?" A sudden wave of nausea hits me hard. My body moves before I can think, carrying me into the kitchen where I retch into the garbage can, emptying my stomach. As hands reach for my hair, I jerk away. "Don't fucking touch me," I shout at Abbott as I move toward the sink. I rinse my mouth quickly, then clutch the counter's edge to steady myself. "I want both of you gone so I can pack my things without having to see either of you." "Camille, no one is going anywhere. We need to work through this. I'm not losing you," he says. "You already have. There's no way I could ever forgive you for betraying me. If you had actually talked to me about your feelings for my best friend, maybe we could have found a way through it—but there was never a world where I'd agree to share you with another woman. We're finished." "You don't mean that. You're upset, I understand. I love you, Camille. We can fix this," he insists. I tilt my head back and laugh. "You didn't just cheat on me, you asshole. You fell in love with the woman I saw as a sister. There's nothing left to fix. Now get the fuck out while I pack. Looking at you both makes me sick." He steps closer again, and without hesitation, my hand lashes out, striking his face. I have never hit anyone before this moment. I shove past him, heading for my room, when Adela catches my arm. "Cam, please don't go. We love you," she pleads. "Take your fucking hands off me before I make what I did to him look mild. You're not my best friend anymore—you're just some whore who slept with my husband," I snap, yanking free from her grip. I rush toward the stairs, climbing them two at a time. When I reach my room, I slam the door and lock it. I sink to the floor, shutting my eyes. I wish this were just a nightmare I could wake from. Tears stream down my face as my hand drifts to my still-flat stomach. The baby we both wanted is growing inside me while everything else collapses around me. How does everything I believed was real turn out to be a lie? Chapter 4 Shattered Cupcakes "Camille, sweetheart, open the door. I sent Adela home. It's just us now. We can talk and sort this out." "How tragic—your girlfriend left. You should have gone with her." "She's not my girlfriend, Camille. You're my wife. The only person who matters right now." "Too bad that didn't cross your mind before you stuck your dick in her. The second you did that, I stopped being your wife." "Camille, please. I'll cut her off completely. I honestly thought you'd be happy having us both. You love Adela—you're always saying how much you miss her, and I thought this would be perfect," he says. "You can't seriously believe I'm that stupid. You expect me to think you slept with my best friend for my sake? Fuck you, Abbott. I hate you." "This isn't like you, Camille. You don't swear or hit people. I see now that what we did was wrong, but that doesn't change how much I love you," he says. "And her—don't forget you love her too." "Not even close to how much I love you. I can walk away from her if that's what you want, Camille. If you forgive me, we can go back to how things were. I can't lose you," he pleads. We're stuck in an endless loop. I need him gone so I can think clearly about what comes next. This morning my life felt perfect, and now it's a complete shit show tangled in a clusterfuck. Some Christmas this is turning into. "Abbott, I need time alone to think." "If I give you space, will you promise we'll talk? Really talk about how we move forward together, Camille? I can't accept anything less. You're my wife—the love of my life," he says. I fight the urge to gag. "Where will you go? To her?" I ask, even though his answer won't change anything. Still, I need to hear it. "No, I'll visit my parents for a few hours. I'll pick up your favorite Chinese on the way back," he replies. "Fine. Give me a few hours." "I love you, Camille. I know I hurt you, but I swear I'll make this right however you need me to," he says. I stay silent, because there's nothing left to say. Nothing short of turning back time could fix this. He knows exactly how I feel about cheaters. My father is one—a serial cheater. He's the reason I refused to visit my parents. He cheats, and my mother just accepts it. I wish my grandmother were still alive…though she'd probably drive here and shoot both of these bastards once she heard what they did, so maybe it's better she isn't. As I pack, an idea begins to take shape. The cottage my grandmother left me is still mine. It probably needs repairs, but Abbott would never think to look for me there. He knows my parents live in a small nearby town, but he has no idea I own the cottage my grandfather built. I've never touched my book earnings, so money isn't an issue. It's almost funny—Abbott claims he supported my writing, yet he never once asked how much I made. He insisted I keep that money in a separate account, calling it my "mad money" to spend however I liked. Three million dollars is a lot of mad money, and I let out a quiet chuckle. I'll likely stay at the Crane Inn until I can fix up the cottage. The small-town inn is probably cheaper than a hotel here—and there's less chance Abbott could find me. I pack enough clothes for five days; anything else I can buy once I reach Colorado. My chest tightens again as I think of the baby growing inside me. The excitement I felt just hours ago has completely vanished. I know I'll have to tell him eventually, but right now I owe him nothing. He caused this. He destroyed us. When I finish packing, I drag my suitcase downstairs. A bitter laugh escapes me when I see the smashed cupcakes still scattered across the floor by the front door. Tears return as I slide my wedding rings off—rings I haven't removed since the day we married—and place them on the table. I take one final look around the place that has been my home for the past five years. I force myself not to break down. Crying will not undo what has already taken place. Besides, there will be more than enough time to fall apart once I am miles away from my unfaithful husband and the woman who used to be my closest friend. I hurry toward my car without hesitation. The moment I sit behind the wheel, my mind floods with endless questions. When did it begin? How long has it been happening? How do they manage to look me in the eye every single day while hiding something like this? I brush away a tear that slips free and back out of the driveway. I try to shove the hurt aside and concentrate on the road ahead. I will need to contact a lawyer soon, but for now, my only priority is reaching the airport. I never imagine I would be walking away from my home. I never expect to leave California behind and return to a place that never truly feels like home when I am growing up, but plans rarely stay the same.
Logan Bale, an immortal who has walked the earth for a thousand years, fulfills a dying promise to his disciple—to protect his family for three years. To honor that vow, he marries his disciple's granddaughter, only to be met with her family's scorn and cruelty. Yet undeterred, he endures their contempt with quiet resolve, holding fast to one promise of his own: to walk away the moment those three years come to an end.