Chapter 1

On the day we signed our marriage license at City Hall, Julian Sterling was three hours late.

I told myself to be understanding. He had a company to run; he was overwhelmed.

Once the papers were signed, I placed our two marriage certificates side by side to snap a photo, but his hand suddenly shot out, pressing the power button to lock my screen.

"Don't post it yet."

"Mia’s engagement was publicly called off today. She's an emotional wreck. If she sees we tied the knot, she might do something reckless."

The next second, he answered Mia’s incoming call right in front of me.

Through the speaker, a woman sobbed, "Julian... did you get married?"

Julian glanced at me, his voice calm. "No. How could I?"

"I'm single."

In that quiet moment, every question I had died in my throat.

What he didn’t know was that today wasn’t just our wedding day.

It was also the final deadline for Vance Capital to decide whether to inject a $300 million investment into Sterling Group.

That wire transfer was scheduled to clear tonight.

I looked down at my phone and texted my grandmother:

[Cancel the capital injection. Rescind all our credit guarantees.]

Immediately after, I sent a second text to my attorney:

[Draft the divorce papers.]

If he was that terrified of Mia finding out he was taken, I would gladly make him single again.

And I'd let him watch, with his own eyes, just how long Sterling Group could stay afloat without me.

"Chloe, Lucas Drake just dumped her in front of high society. The entire city is laughing at her."

"She only reached out to me because she trusts me."

I gripped the marriage certificate tightly. "Did all her friends and family drop dead? Is that why she had to call her ex-boyfriend to hold her hand?"

"Is she actually heartbroken, or is she just looking for a safety net in you?"

"Chloe Vance!"

Embarrassment turned Julian's temper venomous, and he spat my full name with mounting rage.

"Do you always have to sound so bitter?"

"I was her ex, but I just legally married you!"

"Mia has had it rough all these years, and now her engagement is in ruins."

"Do you seriously lack even an ounce of basic human empathy?"

A cold laugh escaped my lips.

Seven years ago, Julian had nothing.

Cast out by the Sterling family, he was living in a leaking basement apartment, unable to even cover his father's medical bills.

I sold an apartment under my own name to clear the hospital's collections.

I dragged him from venture capitalist to venture capitalist. To help him land his very first contract, I swallowed my pride and begged distant relatives I could barely stand.

Back then, he held me close, whispering, "Chloe, once I make it, I’ll let the whole world know you’re the love of my life."

Eventually, he made it.

Yet every time he sat for an interview, he claimed he was "exclusively focused on business."

Every time someone at a gala asked about his love life, he smiled and brushed it off.

I had felt hurt.

He would take my hand and plead, "The Sterling board is watching my every move. I don't want you dragged into the crosshairs. Once the company is rock-solid, I swear I'll make us public."

I bought that excuse year after year.

Until today. Until the day we finally made it legal, and he still refused to let anyone know.

It wasn't about his family. It wasn't about the company.

It was simply because Mia would be heartbroken.

He thought Mia's life had been tragic, but had mine been a walk in the park?

Did I just sit around doing nothing while he provided for me?

I kept smiling, but tears spilled over, splashing onto the freshly inked certificate.

Julian caught sight of the tearstains, and his expression softened into an exasperated sigh.

"Chloe, you've always been the reasonable one. Don't back me into a corner like this."

I didn't utter a word.

He opened his mouth to pacify me further, but his phone lit up. It was a text from Mia:

[Julian, the moment you left, I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore.]

I saw it clearly.

Julian rushed to reply: [I'm on my way.]

Turning back to me, his tone was entirely detached.

"Chloe, go on home first."

He instructed his driver to take me back to our penthouse, then hopped into a waiting car.

The tinted window rolled up, shutting his face away behind the glass.

I closed my eyes, the agony in my chest turning stone cold.

Back at the penthouse, the matching slippers I picked out that morning sat by the entrance.

The dining table was set for two, and the fridge was packed with groceries I had spent all evening prepping.

I had planned a cozy, homemade feast to celebrate our wedding.

The broth was his favorite mushroom blend, and I had visited the butcher at dawn to pick out prime cuts of beef.

On the cake, a cheesy line was piped in frosting: *Seven years, finally our forever.*

Suddenly, it all looked revolting.

I grabbed the pot in one hand and the cake box in the other.

I walked downstairs and dumped everything straight into the trash chute.