Chapter Two

Wren's POV

"Fine! That's just great!" Preston shouts after me. "You'll regret this, Wren. Let's see how long a woman who can't do anything but cook makes it out there without me. I'm not going anywhere near that courthouse. Let's see how long you can keep this up."

I don't look back. I pull the door shut behind me.

I drag out my suitcase and start packing.

Preston has never understood that once a woman's heart is truly dead, all those things he thinks matter are just a cage.

I leave behind every piece of jewelry and every designer gown he ever bought me. I take a few faded cotton tees and a couple pairs of jeans I bought myself before the wedding. In this house, there's almost nothing that's actually mine.

I'm almost done when two knocks come at the door.

Before I can say anything, it swings open.

Kaylee walks in carrying a mug of warm milk, a smug little smile on her face, nothing like the version of her she plays in front of Preston.

"Still packing, Mrs. Ashford?"

She locks the door behind her, sets the milk on the vanity, and glances at the old clothes in my suitcase.

"You really think this junk is worth taking? Why aren't you packing the clothes Preston bought you? Oh, right, I forgot. You're walking out with nothing. You don't get to touch any of that."

I stop what I'm doing. "You came in here just to run your mouth?"

Kaylee laughs behind her hand. "Of course not. I'm only doing you a favor, giving you a little advice. The smart move is knowing when you're beat. You're pushing thirty, you can't have kids. What's the point of you hanging onto the title of Mrs. Ashford?"

My fingers clench.

The third year we were married, I lost the baby, and it wrecked my body. The doctor said it would be hard for me to conceive again.

Marlene used it to tear into me, and it was a thorn in Preston's side too.

But they both forgot why it happened. His company was on the edge of going under, and I ran to three banks in a downpour trying to line up investors for him, until my body gave out and I passed out in the street.

"Preston's been sick of you for a long time." When I stay quiet, Kaylee gets bolder. "He told me himself, in bed. Sleeping with you felt like a chore, about as exciting as lying next to a piece of wood. He said what he really wants is a girl like me, young, full of life, someone who keeps things fresh for him. And..."

She pauses, runs a hand over her flat stomach, and drops her voice. "And I'm not like you. All I have to do is give the Ashfords a son, and being Mrs. Ashford is only a matter of time. Step aside now and you get to keep a little dignity. Drag it out till he throws you out on the street, and it'll get real ugly."

I look at that petty, gloating face of hers, and it strikes me as almost funny.

I stand up and take my phone out of my pocket. "Kaylee, I'm a careful person. My phone's been recording from the second you walked in. Every word of that big speech, I've got all of it."

"Want to guess what happens if I send this to his competitors, or to the tabloids that live for his private life? How far Ashford Group's stock tanks? And how do you think he looks at you after that?"

The color drains right out of Kaylee's face. She lunges for my phone. "Wren! You bitch! Give me that phone!"

I step aside and she misses.

"Don't waste your energy. It's already backed up to the cloud." I look at her. "You think Preston's some hopeless romantic? The only things he loves are his money and his image. The second you threaten either one, he'll throw you out like trash without blinking."

The door opens.

Preston walks in holding a jewelry box. He looks at me, then at Kaylee's furious face, and his face darkens right away.

"Wren, what are you doing?" He pulls Kaylee behind him. "She was being nice, bringing you a glass of milk, and you're giving her attitude again? I'm warning you, don't take this out on her."

He doesn't ask a single question. He's already got it all decided. I'm the bitter, washed-up wife who can't stand to see anyone else happy, and Kaylee is the poor, innocent girl taking the abuse.

Preston drops the jewelry box on the vanity. "I went out of my way to buy you a necklace. Don't push your luck. Kaylee lives in this house now, and you're going to make room for her. You lay one finger on her, and don't expect me to go easy on you for old times' sake."

A slap, then a piece of candy to make it better. He's run this same trick for seven years, and for seven years I fell for it.

I always used to give in for that scrap of warmth, telling myself it meant he still cared, deep down.

Now it just makes me sick.

I reach out and knock the jewelry box flying.

"Preston, take your cheap necklace and your cheap woman and get out of my sight." I point at the door. "Nine o'clock tomorrow morning, the courthouse. Miss it and I'm not waiting."