Chapter 2

I pushed open the door to the wedding suite, and all the red double-happiness decorations looked unbearably garish now.

I walked into the bathroom meaning to splash cold water on my face, and there on the counter I found a pink electric toothbrush.

Beside it, brazenly out in the open, sat a bottle of makeup remover.

My chest dropped hard. I turned and opened the walk-in closet.

Sure enough, right next to my custom coat, several pieces of Amy's cheap office wear were crammed in like they belonged there.

I let out a cold laugh.

I remembered last month, the first time I'd found a trace of Amy, and Curt's impatient explanation:

"Amy's rental is too far away. Sometimes she works late on company projects and can't make it home, so she crashes in the guest room for a night. What's the problem?"

"Stop being so petty all the time. Word gets out and people will say I mistreat my staff."

Crashing for a night?

Whose overnight guest washes their bras and underwear and stuffs them into the man of the house's closet?

I grabbed a black trash bag, swept everything off the bathroom counter, along with every piece of Amy's clothing in the closet, dumped it all in, and threw it out into the hallway.

At two in the morning, the lock turned.

Curt shoved the door open, reeking of liquor and that familiar perfume.

He saw the trash bag at the door, froze for a second, then stormed into the living room in a fury.

"Nadia, what the hell are you flipping out over now!"

He yanked his tie loose, irritated, and pointed down at me.

"The group wedding was today, and you just walked out without a word. Do you have any idea how that makes me look to my coworkers?"

"Amy thinks she upset you. She's been crying and blaming herself the whole time, couldn't even eat dinner! Did you really have to take it this far?"

I sat on the couch and looked at him quietly.

"So you left everyone behind to go drink with her and comfort her?"

Something guilty flickered in his eyes.

But there was no remorse. Instead he raised his voice and shouted, righteous as anything:

"Amy lost her parents young. She's out here in this city grinding away all on her own. I'm her boss. What's wrong with looking after her like an older brother would?"

"Do you have to be this mean? It's honestly nauseating!"

I curled my lip.

"You've taken pretty good care of her, then. You even worked her into your wedding. Don't tell me you took care of her all the way into bed, too?"

Curt's face went red in an instant.

"You... how can your mind be so filthy? If you insist on thinking that way, there's nothing I can do, but Amy and I are completely innocent!"

I looked steadily at the man in front of me, worked up and furious.

Eight years ago he'd had nothing, holding a bunch of discounted roses, swearing he would keep me cradled in his palm and never let me suffer the slightest wrong.

But now, for another woman, he hurled every vicious word he could think of at me without mercy.

Looking at that disgusted face of his, I suddenly felt like I was staring at a stranger.

The last bit of unwillingness in my heart just scattered away.

Calmly, I stood up.

"Who is that dead-fish look supposed to be for!"

Behind me Curt was still going at it, refusing to let up.

"Pick that stuff up off the floor right now and take it to Amy tomorrow!"

I ignored him, walked straight into the master bedroom, and locked the door behind me.

I let Curt pound on the door until it shook, cursing me for being unreasonable.

I went to the desk and pulled open the bottom drawer.

Inside lay a single document.

An offer letter from a top investment bank.

Six months ago, to prepare for this wedding he claimed to have looked forward to for so long, to settle in and be a good wife, I had painfully set it aside.

Now I took the letter out and gently smoothed it flat.

Then I picked up my phone and dialed HR overseas.

"Hi, Susan. If I accept the offer now, is there still time?"