Chapter 3

Before bed, Cedric gathered my hair and fastened a necklace around my throat. His voice was calm.

"Happy birthday, Heather."

I clenched my fists under the duvet, keeping my tone perfectly steady. "Your meeting went on for quite a while today. Did everything go smoothly?"

Cedric paused for a split second before giving a flat "Yeah."

I stared in silence at the man lying beside me. He rolled over, turning his back to me. "It's late. Go to sleep."

My eyes remained wide open all night. Only when his breathing turned deep and steady did I sit up stiffly, reach over to the nightstand, pick up his phone, and unlock it.

Years ago, Cedric had registered my fingerprint.

In the two years we dated and the five years we were married, I trusted him completely. I had never once checked his phone.

Perhaps relying on that blind trust, Cedric hadn't bothered hiding a thing. His messages with the young girl were filled with blatant, sickening intimacy.

Her name was Chloe, a newly hired intern at his firm. Her contact name was saved as "Sweetie."

When she pouted about her long subway commute from Queens, Cedric immediately signed a lease on a luxury high-rise apartment for her right in Midtown.

He had spent weekends walking through home-decor stores with Chloe, furnishing the apartment from scratch—pink silk sheets, a bright yellow couch, even matching ceramic plates for the kitchen—slowly building their little love nest.

My thumb felt heavier with every swipe down the screen.

Right before Cedric came home tonight, Chloe had sent him a selfie. Around her delicate collarbone hung an imperial pink topaz necklace.

“I love pink. Only old, dried-up women wear tacky blue tourmaline.”

Cedric had replied: “You're right. You’re the freshest of all. You look far more stunning than any pink topaz.”

I reached up and gripped the blue tourmaline necklace resting against my chest. A crushing weight settled on my lungs, dragging me down into a dark, suffocating ocean.

Tears splashed onto the glass screen. I blinked them away, bit my lip, and kept scrolling.

Six months ago, Cedric had taken Chloe to Paris. Hand in hand at a quiet little park midway up Montmartre, they had carved their initials and "I love you" onto a wooden bench.

Their last exchange had been right before we went to bed. Chloe was throwing an angry tantrum.

“When are you finally going to divorce that old woman? I hate sharing you. The thought of you touching her the way you touch me makes me sick.”

Cedric's reply was simple: “I'll handle it soon.”

Chloe sent a sad puppy emoji, and Cedric replied with a little puppy knight. Looking at that playful sticker, an overwhelming wave of misery hit me. Since when did the cold, reserved Cedric Vance use cute cartoon stickers?

Cedric had also sent her a thirty-three-second voice note. I tapped the screen to convert it to text.

“Sweetie, don't be upset. I love you, and I belong to you. We have the rest of our lives ahead of us. Don't worry about the obstacles right now. I'll overcome everything to be with you.”