Chapter 2

Evelyn

Chloe fucking Croft. My friend. Or what used to pass for one in this world of champagne lunches and charity galas.

I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. My body turned to stone in the chair while my mind raced through every interaction I'd had with her in the past year. Every coffee date where she'd asked about Liam with just a little too much interest. Every time she'd touched his arm at parties, laughing at his jokes like they were the funniest thing she'd ever heard.

That bitch.

"Say something." Liam refilled his glass again.

"What the fuck do you want me to say?" My voice came out strangled. "Congratulations?"

"I want you to listen." He stood, walked around the desk. "This doesn't have to be the end of us."

"You got another woman pregnant."

"Which is why I'm proposing a solution that works for everyone." He leaned against the desk, all calm rationality, while my world collapsed. "We maintain appearances publicly. You keep the Vance name, the lifestyle, and access to Isabella. You'll still be my wife. We can still live here together, share a bed when it suits us. I'll acknowledge Chloe's child, split my time between this house and hers. It's civilized. Modern."

"Modern." I wanted to laugh or scream or throw his crystal decanter at his perfect fucking face. "You mean you want to have your cake and eat it too?"

"I mean, I want to be honest about what this marriage has become." He crossed his arms. "We haven't been happy in years, Evelyn. You know it as well as I do."

"So you fuck my friend and knock her up?"

"Chloe was willing to give me what you stopped giving a long time ago."

The accusation hit like a slap. "I stopped? I've been trying to connect with you for months. You're the one who treats me like I'm invisible."

"Because you are." He said it so simply, like commenting on the weather. "You're not the woman I married anymore. That Evelyn had fire, ambition, and drive. This one just spends my money and plans dinner parties."

"You wanted me to quit my job."

"I wanted a partner. Instead, I got a dependent."

My nails dug into the leather armrests. "Fuck you."

"Think about Isabella." He pushed off the desk, moved closer. "A divorce would devastate her. Split custody, holidays negotiated through lawyers, watching her parents tear each other apart in court. Or we handle this like adults. She keeps both parents under one roof and keeps her life stable. All you have to do is to accept reality."

"The reality where you parade your mistress around while I smile and pretend everything's fine?"

"Chloe won't be parading anywhere. She'll be discreet." He crouched in front of me, hands on my knees. "This can work, Evelyn. People do it all the time in our circle. The Ashfords, the Carmichaels. Half of Manhattan has arrangements like this."

I stared down at his hands on my legs, wanted to shove them off, but couldn't make myself move.

"When?" The question scraped out. "When did this start?"

"Does it matter?"

"Tell me."

He sighed, like I was being unreasonable. "About eight months ago. I hired her as my secretary. Things developed naturally from there."

Eight months. I'd been wondering why he seemed lighter, happier. Turns out he'd just been getting his dick wet in someone else.

"Naturally." I laughed, brittle and sharp. "Right. Nothing to do with her walking around your office in short skirts and low-cut blouses."

"She's intelligent. Capable. We connected on a level you and I haven't in years."

His hand slid higher on my thigh, fingers dragging up the sensitive skin beneath my dress. I froze again, torn between jerking away and letting him continue.

"Don't." I grabbed his wrist.

"You're wet." He'd reached high enough to feel it through my panties. His thumb pressed against the damp fabric and rubbed in slow circles. "Your body still wants this. Wants me."

"Stop it."

"We can make this work." His voice dropped lower, intimate in a way he hadn't been in months. "You get security, Isabella gets stability, and we both get freedom to find what we need elsewhere. I'll still come to your bed when I want to. Still fuck you like I did last night."

Last night. When he'd used me like a convenient hole and left me aching and unsatisfied.

I shoved his hand away and stood so fast the chair nearly toppled. "Get the fuck away from me."

He straightened, expression cooling back to that neutral mask. "Be reasonable."

"Reasonable? You want me to be reasonable about you knocking up my friend?" I backed toward the door, needing distance. "About making me share my husband like I'm some pathetic doormat who'll just smile and take whatever scraps you throw my way?"

"Evelyn."

"No." My hand found the doorknob. "I won't do this. I won't accept this bullshit open marriage so you can have your perfect little setup. Either you end things with Chloe, or I'm filing for divorce."

"You'll lose." His voice turned sharp, all business now. "I have the better lawyers, more money, more connections. You'll be lucky to get supervised visitation with Isabella by the time I'm done."

The threat landed like ice in my veins. "You'd do that? Use our daughter as leverage?"

"I'd do whatever's necessary to protect my family. All of my family now." He picked up his glass and swirled the whiskey. "Think about what you're willing to sacrifice for pride, Evelyn. Because I promise you, a court battle will cost you everything."

I left before I said something I couldn't take back. Before I launched myself at him and clawed his fucking eyes out.

Isabella was in the den watching cartoons. I forced a smile and kissed the top of her head.

"I'm going to take a bath, sweetie. Maria will get you ready for bed, okay?"

"Okay, Mommy." She didn't look away from the screen.

I locked myself in our bathroom, started the water scalding hot, and stripped off my clothes. In the mirror, I looked the same as this morning. Same face, same body. But everything had shifted beneath the surface.

Eight months. He'd been fucking Chloe for eight months while I'd been trying to save our marriage. While I'd been wearing lingerie he didn't notice and initiating sex he barely participated in.

And the whole time, he'd had his cock buried in that backstabbing bitch.

I sank into the tub, let the heat sear my skin. Closed my eyes and saw them together. Liam bending Chloe over his desk, her skirt hiked up while he pounded into her. Chloe was on her knees in his office, taking his cock down her throat while he praised her, told her how much better she was than his frigid wife. Them in hotel rooms, her tits bouncing while she rode him, both of them laughing about stupid Evelyn at home who had no fucking clue.

He'd made her his secretary so he could fuck her whenever he wanted. Convenient access, respectable cover. Probably had her bent over that desk twice a day, came inside her pussy while conference calls waited on hold.

And now she was pregnant. Growing his child while I'd been begging for scraps of his attention.

The water had gone lukewarm by the time I climbed out. I dried off mechanically, pulled on a nightgown, and crawled into bed. Liam's side stayed empty. Good. I didn't want to see his face right now.

Sleep came in fits and starts. I'd doze off, then wake gasping from dreams where Chloe stood in my kitchen, her belly round with Liam's baby, smiling that smug smile while telling me how much better she was at everything. How Liam moaned louder when she sucked his cock. How he actually made her come, multiple times, instead of leaving her frustrated and empty.

By morning, I'd gotten maybe five hours total. I felt hollowed out, running on fumes and rage.

Isabella needed breakfast. I went through the motions, pouring cereal, cutting fruit, packing her lunch for school. Liam didn't appear. Probably stayed in the guest room.

After I dropped Isabella off, I sat in the car in the school parking lot, hands shaking on the wheel. Exhaustion made everything feel distant and surreal.

And wrong. Something felt wrong beyond the emotional devastation.

My period was late. Two weeks late.

No. No no no.

I drove to a pharmacy in a neighborhood, bought three different pregnancy tests, and brought them home. Locked myself in a bathroom on the first floor, away from where Liam might find me.

Peed on all three sticks. Set them on the counter. Waited the longest three minutes of my life.

Positive. All three of them. Two pink lines, a plus sign, the word "PREGNANT" in digital letters.

I was pregnant with Liam's baby. While his mistress was also pregnant with his baby.

A laugh bubbled up, hysterical and bitter. The universe had a fucked up sense of humor.

I stared at those tests, mind spinning through options. I could tell him. Use it as leverage, proof that I could give him what Chloe was giving him. We could be a real family again.

Except he'd just threatened to take Isabella from me. What would stop him from doing the same with this baby? From using a pregnancy to trap me in his twisted open marriage arrangement?

No. This was mine: my secret, my choice, my power.

I wrapped the tests in paper towels and stuffed them deep in my purse. Threw away the boxes. Made sure there was no evidence.

Then I went upstairs, showered, dressed in jeans and a sweater, and looked at myself in the mirror. Still the same face. But beneath it, something new grew. A second chance or another anchor, I couldn't tell which yet.