Chapter 3

Adrian called the next morning.

"Ms. Carter said you went to San Francisco looking for me," he said. "Do you need her to book you a flight home?"

His voice was calm, deep, and perfectly controlled—he sounded as though he were just reviewing an invoice.

I pressed my fingers against the ache behind my eyes.

"No."

There was a pause.

"Are you still there?" he asked.

"Adrian, have you ever thought about making our marriage public?"

Before he could answer, a man's voice boomed through the call. Ethan Brooks, one of Adrian's oldest friends, said something I couldn't make out. And several people laughed.

Adrian covered the phone. The sound became muffled, then quiet.

"What did you say?" he asked.

My courage had lasted exactly one sentence.

"Nothing, " I whispered.

"Claire. Ms. Carter misunderstood. I didn't go to San Francisco. I've been working all week."

The lie came easily because our marriage had always required me to make things easy.

Keeping the marriage a secret had been Adrian's condition before the wedding.

"I don't want strangers treating our relationship like public property," he'd said. "Unless there's a practical reason, no one needs to know."

At the time, I thought that kind of privacy sounded romantic. We had a courthouse ceremony, dinner with Grandpa Hale, and went on to live a quiet life in a beautiful house outside Westbridge. Adrian never wore a ring to the office. I kept mine on a silver chain, tucked out of sight against my skin.

I told myself we knew what we were to each other. That should have been enough.

Yet, it wasn't enough when his friends invited Vanessa and forgot me.

It wasn't enough when his employees assumed Vanessa was his future wife.

It wasn't enough when I stood alone in an airport hotel while my husband celebrated his birthday twenty minutes from our home.

After that trip, I stopped asking questions.

I worked. I slept. I answered Adrian politely. My coworkers said I seemed calmer.

Inside, I felt as if I were standing in a building after the fire alarm had stopped, waiting to learn whether the structure was still safe.

The answer came during a client meeting at Hale Group.

My agency had spent six months preparing the campaign. I had built the research deck, coordinated the contractors, and managed every revision. However, when our team entered the conference room for the final phase, Vanessa stood at the head of the table.

She wore a navy dress and spoke with practiced confidence. My coworkers were impressed. She had spent several years in New York managing similar accounts, and she knew exactly how to command the room.

She also knew exactly where I was sitting.

Her gaze returned to me again and again, open and measuring.

After the meeting, I went to Adrian's office.

"Why is she here?" I asked.

He leaned back in his chair. "Because she's qualified."

"There are hundreds of qualified people. Why bring your ex into your company when you know what this has done to us?"

"She isn't here because she's my ex. She's here because she handled accounts like this in New York."

"Then send her to another account."

His expression cooled. "I don't make staffing decisions based on your personal feelings."

Something in me tore.

"Personal feelings? She calls you at midnight. You leave me for her. You flew home for her birthday cake and didn't tell your wife you were in the same city."

"Lower your voice."

"Have you slept with her?"

His jaw clenched.. "That is enough."

I heard myself spewing ugly, spiteful things about Vanessa. I hated the words the second they left my mouth, but rage had already stripped away whatever was left of my rationality.

Adrian stood.

"Do you understand what those accusations could do to her reputation here?"

"Her reputation?"

"Vanessa is more experienced than you. Look at her education, her resume, her numbers. What on earth makes you think you have the right to question whether she belongs in that room?"

I stared at him.

He had turned a fight about our marriage into a performance review, and I was losing both.

"If Vanessa and I wanted to be together," he said, "you never would have become Mrs. Hale."

My hands began to shake.

"If you think so little of me, why did you marry me?"

His assistant knocked and opened the door a few inches.

"Mr. Hale, the board is waiting."

Adrian glanced at the clock.

I had spent months waiting for him to choose me. But he was already turning toward the door.

"Let's get divorced," I said quietly.

He stopped.

For the first time that afternoon, he looked shocked.

Then his face shut down completely.

"We'll discuss this when you're calm."

He walked right past me, leaving the room for his meeting.