Chapter 2

I almost laugh.

Ever since Rowan and I got together, I've poured everything I had into his company.

But he never paid me a dime. He said it "wouldn't look right."

His line was always the same: "Baby, what's mine is yours. Why bother with a paycheck? It's all gonna be ours anyway."

So yeah, I never felt guilty spending money from the accounts he always called "ours."

What he owes me is worth way more than a few handbags and some skincare.

I open my chat with my personal shopper, ready to blow another fortune before I leave. Bleed him dry.

Quinn's sugary voice slides right back in.

"You know what? I'll refund that charge for you. And freeze the card for a few days."

"Summer, your family's rich. Rowan's the one struggling. You get it, right?"

"Oh, and about my birthday present. It's just a few thousand, right? You can totally cover that yourself. I can't let that go through on Rowan's card."

"And don't stress about the trip. Rowan and I already have everything handled. Food, hotel, rides, all taken care of. You won't have to spend a cent."

A chill runs down my spine.

The second that card is frozen, I'm cut off. Trapped. No way out.

But I have to get out.

I grip my phone, force a tremble into my voice, and take a gamble.

"Rowan."

There’s a pause on the other end. Then Quinn's voice tightens.

"Summer, why are you saying Rowan's name? He's not—"

I cut her off.

My voice comes out slow and deliberate.

"Rowan, I heard you cough."

"Come talk to me."

Dead silence on the other end of the line.

My nails dig into my palm.

After a long pause, I hear a small cough. Then Rowan's voice, low and careful.

"Babe, it's not what you think. I'm at the office, working late. Quinn's my assistant, she's just helping me run some numbers."

"You know I only look out for her because she's your friend. I gave her a raise, so of course she's putting in extra hours."

Six months earlier, I remember how Rowan doubled Quinn's salary and given her the title of "Executive Assistant to the CEO."

All under the excuse of "helping her out."

Quinn jumps in fast:

"Exactly, Summer! You're leaving tomorrow, somebody's gotta cover your workload, right? Don't overthink it!"

I ignore her.

"Rowan. Freezing my card. Was that you?"

Years of playing the perfect husband. And right now, he won't admit to a damn thing.

"What? No way! I love it when you spend my money! It's just, things are really tight at the company right now. Just cut back a little, okay? I'll make it up to you later, I promise..."

I hit stop on the voice recorder and hang up.

After my little performance, I kept the Maui ticket.

But Rowan still doesn't come home that night.

Later that night, hurricane warnings flood every news channel.

I never stay up past ten. Never. But right now, it's two in the morning.

If it weren't for that voicemail, I would've slept right through every alert and walked straight into their trap.

Instagram pings. Quinn just posted.

A selfie. Tagged at: CEO's office lounge.

The same lounge Rowan had always said only I had a key to.

Caption: Huge thanks to the boss. Even a small town girl gets to nap on a million-dollar couch. 😴

In the corner of the photo, just barely visible, a navy silk robe.

The one I picked out for Rowan myself.

Then Rowan, who never posts, drops a story too.

The text on it reads: How many people would stay up with you till 2 AM?