Chapter 4

The line at the macaron shop was long.

By the time we got back, the dinner had already started.

The elders were deep in conversation, trading drinks and talking about things I had no part in.

I pushed my steak around on my plate.

And found myself thinking about the night Ethan and Clara got engaged.

Gifts had filled more than a dozen rooms.

Everyone had gathered around her — fussing over her, asking if she was warm enough, if she needed anything.

But at my engagement dinner, the conversation was about business. Strategy. What the alliance between two families was worth.

Not a single person had asked whether I was happy.

Ethan noticed. Under the table, he quietly took my hand.

"Bored? Let's step outside for a bit."

"I'm here. They won't say anything."

He was always like this. Attentive. Considerate.

Three parts genuine, seven parts performance.

Just enough to keep me off balance.

I was about to answer when his phone buzzed.

He glanced at it. His expression shifted fast.

"Something urgent came up at work. I have to go handle it."

"Yvonne, stay and keep the elders company for me."

As Ethan hurried out, his grandmother's face tightened.

She never let her displeasure show in front of him.

That was reserved for me.

"Your husband has to leave and you can't do a thing about it."

"You're nothing like your sister."

Mrs. Shaw clicked her tongue in agreement, adding her own twist of the knife.

"What do you expect? She's just a bastard. No class."

The table turned on me.

Back and forth, one comment after another, each one designed to remind me exactly where I stood.

Before, I would have smiled through all of it. Too afraid of making things difficult for Ethan.

But not anymore. None of that mattered now.

I pushed back my chair and left the table.

I soaked in the bath until the tension of the day started to loosen.

When I got out, my phone had a new message.

A video. And it wasn't subtle.

In it, Ethan had his arm around a young woman, whispering against her ear.

"You little troublemaker — faking sick just to get me over here on a night like this."

"You're going to pay for that."

The girl curled into him, laughing and pouting.

Ethan smiled and kissed her harder.

The sounds echoed in the room.

The ease between them — loose, flirtatious, completely at odds with the composed, controlled man I knew — hit me like a stranger wearing his face.

I stared at the screen.

Then the girl turned toward the camera.

Her face. Her expression.

She was the image of Clara. Down to the smallest detail.

My vision blurred.

My chest pulled tight, a dull throb that wouldn't let up.

It was all fake. Everything. The marriage. The love.

Ethan had betrayed what we had.

And in doing so, he had betrayed even the love he claimed to carry for Clara.

At least Clara was gone now. And I would be gone soon enough.

Less than twenty-four hours until my flight.

One more sunrise. That was all I had to get through.

After that, I'd be free of all of it.

Morning came, and Ethan still hadn't come home.

His grandmother, worried, kept nudging me to go check on him.

I figured I could use one last look at his face anyway.

Ethan hadn't expected me to show up. He looked caught off guard.

On instinct, he tugged his collar up to hide the marks on his neck.

Then, with a trace of guilt in his voice:

"What are you doing here? Did someone give you a hard time last night?"

I shook my head. "No."

I had long since gotten used to being looked down on and talked over.