Chapter 1

PROLOGUE

On the night of our wedding anniversary, I threw a stack of photos right at Ethan’s feet.

He didn't even bother bending down to look. "Don't bother. I admit it."

Ten years. From high school sweethearts to the altar. And in the end, he kept an older woman who ran a corner store on the side.

He was the one who cheated, yet he blamed me, claiming I made him feel like he couldn't breathe.

I laughed. Back when my dad's company went under and my mom died in a car crash, he had been the only light in my dark world.

Now, he was just a knife buried deep in my chest.

Autumn's POV

Ethan and I went from high school lockers to wedding vows.

I gave him the best years of my life.

In the end, Ethan kept another woman on the side, turning around to blame me for weighing him down.

That night, when Ethan pushed the front door open, I had already been sitting on the couch for hours.

A stack of photos hit the floor right by his feet, scattering everywhere.

Ethan looked down, skimming them, without even bending his back.

"Don't bother. I admit it."

He had found a woman who ran a twenty-four-hour convenience store. Her name was Brenda, and she was a few years older than him.

Everyone in our circle used to say Ethan was cold, aloof, and proud. In all the years since taking over the Vance Group, his eyes had only ever held room for me.

The entryway light fell across his face, flat and emotionless, without a single ripple.

I gripped the armrest of the couch and stood up, my hands trembling violently.

"After all these years together, you don't even have an explanation? What does she have that I don't?"

Ethan pulled out the chair across from me and sat down, his tone as casual as someone reading off a receipt.

"Autumn, let's tally up the score."

"Whenever you had late rehearsals, I skipped business dinners to pick you up. I crossed off every dish you hated before ordering."

"When you traveled abroad with your troupe and struggled with jet lag, I stayed on international calls with you all night."

"When you blew out your knee, and the year your parents died in that crash, I was the one who stayed by your hospital bed for three days and three nights."

Ethan let out a soft laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I counted. In this lifetime, I've bent my knee for you exactly one hundred and twenty times."

"Autumn, you pushed me too hard. It's exhausting."

The breath caught in my throat.

The headlights waiting after my shows, the scribbles on restaurant menus, the midnight phone calls across the ocean.

I had thought those were just the sweet, everyday parts of loving each other.

Turns out, he was keeping an invoice the entire time.

One hundred and twenty entries. And tonight, he slapped that ledger right across my face, demanding I pay for the debt.

"So what were my last ten years to you?" A bitter laugh escaped me. "Are you listing all this so I'll apologize? Or do you want me to get on my knees and thank you?"

Ethan stood up, not even sparing me a glance.

"I don't want anything. I'm just tired."

The living room fell so silent that only the ticking of the wall clock remained.

Years ago, when my family fell apart, I locked myself in my room for seven days straight.

Ethan stood outside my building for seven days and seven nights, refusing to leave until he dragged me back into the light.

Back then, he told me, *Autumn, even if the sky falls, I'll hold it up for you.*

I believed him for over a decade.

Now, he was tired, seeking comfort in a woman who ran a corner store.

I couldn't accept it. I had to see her with my own eyes.

At eleven the following night, I followed the address and walked into that convenience store.

The store was empty. Behind the register sat a woman in a gray knit sweater, faint crow's feet framing her eyes.

The shelves held ordinary burgers and sandwiches, with a handwritten shift schedule taped beside the register.

Standing in the aisle, I still couldn't understand what I had lost to.

I walked up and slapped a bank card onto the counter.

"Name your price. Take the money, get out of New York, and never see him again."

Brenda stared at the card, her eyes welling up with tears instantly.

She kept her head down, nervously wringing her hands against her apron over and over.

"I'm so sorry... I can't take this money."

"I'll leave. I'll pack my things and leave first thing tomorrow morning. I swear I'll never contact him again."

Her voice trembled, tears dripping down one after another.

I let out a breath of relief.

As long as she was willing to disappear, maybe our marriage could still be saved.

Without another word, I turned and pushed open the glass door.

It clicked shut behind me.

Three days later, the news hit me like a freight train.

On her way out of New York, Brenda got into a car crash. She was rushed into the ICU, and the baby she was carrying—Ethan's baby—was lost.

Clutching my phone, I dialed the convenience store immediately.

It rang until it timed out.

I kept calling. On the third try, someone picked up. Heavy, ragged breathing came through the line before the call was abruptly cut.

That bank card was meant to drive her away.

Now, it had become the bloody evidence of a lost life, pinned firmly onto me.

I stood by the doorway until dawn, shivering as if I had been submerged in ice water.

From that moment on, in Ethan's eyes, I would forever be a murderer.