Chapter 1

My best friend caught my boyfriend cheating nine times.

Except every single time, she had just climbed out of his bed.

Seven years into our relationship, I received a photo of my boyfriend walking a woman back to his place for the ninth time.

Before I could even process it, my best friend, Summer, rushed over in the dead of night to catch him in the act for me.

She sent me videos of the wrecked apartment, crying hysterically and swearing she had slapped him across the face on my behalf.

I almost believed her. Again.

Until I zoomed in on the photo and spotted the limited-edition bracelet on the woman’s wrist.

The exact one I had gifted Summer.

Right then, a notification popped up from my boyfriend's smart lock:

"Family member Summer has unlocked the door. This is her 999th entry."

I checked the access history, and my hands began to tremble.

On all nine of those supposed cheating busts, the person unlocking the door with their fingerprint in the dead of night was Summer.

The first eight times, she cussed out Carter for me, cried with me, and urged me to forgive him.

And every single time, she had just gotten off my boyfriend, cleaned herself up, and came right back to play the loyal best friend.

There was never a third person in that room.

The two people I trusted most in this world—one handled the betrayal, and the other provided the alibi.

I booked a train ticket out of town.

Then, I dropped the nine photos and the log showing 999 entries right into our group chat on SnapChat.

"I found the other woman."

……

I had zoomed in on the bracelet and circled it in red.

After the message went through, the chat stayed dead silent for a long time.

Summer was the first to reply with a question mark.

Then came her texts:

"Sienna, what's this supposed to mean?"

"Did you misunderstand something?"

"Just connecting the dots," I replied, pretending to brush it off.

Staring at the silent screen afterward, I let out a cold laugh.

Carter hadn’t said a single word from start to finish.

To confirm my suspicions, I called Carter’s housekeeper, Clara.

When the call connected, Clara’s voice was hesitant.

"Miss Vance, it’s so late. Why aren't you asleep?"

"Does Summer go over to Carter’s place often?" I asked directly.

A heavy silence dragged on at the other end.

Finally, Clara replied, "Miss Hayes and Mr. Hayes are close friends. It’s normal for her to visit."

"Is it normal? Does she go there even when Carter isn't home?" I scoffed. "Clara, don't forget who gave you this job."

Clara paused before admitting, "Sometimes she goes in when Mr. Hayes isn't there, saying she needs to pick up contracts."

I gripped my phone tighter. "Was she there on the night of September seventeenth?"

"Yes," Clara whispered. "That day, Mr. Hayes told me to change the sheets on the master bed. He also told me to put away the framed photo of you on the nightstand."

A chill ran through my fingertips.

He had planned it all so meticulously.

He had wiped away every trace in advance.

To him, I was probably just an idiot who was easy to fool.

After hanging up, I sat on the living room floor, staring at the nine photos once more.

The first one was from last winter.

Carter, with his arm around a woman in a white dress, walking through the door.

The second one was the night of my birthday.

He had claimed a client changed a project last minute and said he couldn't make it to dinner.

In the photo, a woman leaned against his shoulder, holding the hangover meds I had bought for him.

The ninth one was taken tonight.

I zoomed in.

The bracelet on Summer’s wrist was clear as day.

I had spent two months tracking it down for her birthday two years ago.

When she opened it, she hugged me in tears, saying it was the best gift she had ever received.

And now, she was wearing my gift while sleeping with my boyfriend.

A sudden wave of nausea hit me.

I bolted to the bathroom, gripping the sink counter as I dry-heaved uncontrollably.

After washing my face, I pulled up the travel app.

From this city back to my northern hometown, leaving the night before Thanksgiving.

When the payment went through, staring at the confirmation text on the screen, tears welled up in my eyes.

In the seven years I had spent with Carter, I had brought up going back north so many times.

I wanted to visit home. I wanted Carter to come with me.

My grandmother had left me an old photography studio there.

Every single time, Carter claimed he was too busy.

The first year, the studio was just starting out.

The second year, he had to secure new venue leases.

Later, when Summer joined the company, Carter barely even bothered making excuses.

He would just say, "Go stay for a couple of days if you want, just don't neglect your work."

It felt like my life was forever forced to take a back seat to his business and Summer.

At two in the morning, the front door unlocked.

Carter walked in, holding a takeout bowl of clear broth noodles.

Seeing me sitting on the couch, he visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Still awake?"

He set the bowl on the table.

"The diner downstairs was still open. I told the cook no scallions and light on the salt."

Two perfectly fried eggs floated in the broth.

Carter knew about my chronic stomach issues.

He also knew that when I worked late into the night, this was the only thing I could stomach.

Back when he used to travel for business, he would always schedule food delivery to my studio.

The order note was always the same: No scallions, light salt, no cilantro.

I used to think that remembering those tiny details meant he truly loved me.

Looking back now, it was probably just the easiest way to keep me placated.

Carter walked over, reaching out to pat my head.

"I saw the photos in the chat."

"Don't overthink this. I didn't cheat on you. Summer was just worried I had too much to drink and walked me back to grab some files. A lot of people have that bracelet. Don't go scaring yourself."

I turned my face away and slapped his hand aside.

"Then why does she have her fingerprint registered on your door? Do you remember what you promised me?"

Carter’s hand froze in midair.

He stayed silent for two seconds, then handed me the forks.

"Eat your noodles first."

"You haven't eaten all day."

I looked straight into his eyes. "Carter, answer me. You said yourself that the fingerprint lock would only ever belong to the woman of the house."

He furrowed his brows.

"She grabs documents for me sometimes. Registering her print was just more convenient. It’s no big deal."

"If it bothers you that much, I'll delete her access tomorrow."

Before I could reply, Carter’s phone screen lit up.

Summer sent a voice note, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Carter, I'm out here all alone and I'm terrified. I don't dare go home..."

Carter’s expression shifted instantly.

He grabbed his jacket and moved toward the door.

"Are you going to look over contracts in the middle of the night again?" I asked.

"I'm just driving her home. It's late and it's not safe for a girl alone."

I stared at him, my heart turning ice-cold.

"What about me? Do you even remember that I'm your girlfriend?"

Carter paused at the door, softening his tone.

"Sienna, stop letting your imagination run wild."

"I'll be right back."

With that, he walked out without looking back.

After the door clicked shut, I stared at the bowl of noodles.

The steam slowly drifted away.

I carried the bowl into the kitchen and dumped it into the trash can.

Cold noodles tasted awful.

And as for Carter—I was done with him, too.