Chapter 1

The bag Liam Gilbert gave me, the Cartier bracelet, the Tiffany necklace—every last one of them was fake.

I grabbed the whole pile of junk and marched into his company, wanting to hear him explain it to my face.

I pushed open the office door just as the wine was pouring from a decanter into a crystal glass——that bottle of Romanée-Conti, the one he'd cried poverty over on my birthday, swearing he couldn't afford it, was being handed with great attentiveness to his new secretary.

His arm was around her waist, and he was smiling in a way I'd never once seen.

"You like it? The whole bottle's yours."

I didn't kick the door. I didn't scream. I didn't even make a sound.

I just backed away to the end of the hall and dialed the first name in my contacts.

"Donald Dickerson, when was it we got married again?"

The line went silent for two seconds.

"...You finally fucking remembered?"

"Mm."

I watched the elevator numbers count down.

"The county clerk's office. And send me my lawyer's number while you're at it."

...

His breathing came heavy on the other end.

"Carly Fox, are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

I walked out of Liam's building, the sunlight stabbing at my eyes.

"Wait for me outside the county clerk's office."

There wasn't a trace of hesitation in Donald's voice, and he hung up right away.

I stood at the edge of the busy road, phone in hand, my mind gone blank.

The car accident three years ago had knocked out my memory, and knocked away my marriage certificate too.

The doctor said it was selective amnesia, that some part of me was fleeing a pain I couldn't bear.

Now I understood.

Compared to being betrayed by the person closest to you, being deceived by a lover was nothing at all.

Liam's call chased me down just as I walked in my front door.

"Baby, where'd you go? I looked for you all afternoon."

His voice was gentle as always, like a net with no gaps to slip through.

I opened the closet and threw his things into the suitcase, one piece at a time.

"Liam, did you have a good time at the office?"

He paused over there.

"What office? I was out chasing a project all day. I'm dead on my feet."

The lie came right out of his mouth, not a flush to his face, not a skip in his pulse.

I laughed, furious.

"Really? That bottle of Romanée-Conti—how'd it taste?"

Dead silence on the line.

A few seconds later, Liam's voice turned angry.

"You came to my company? What's the meaning of this, Carly? Checking up on me?"

"Checking up on you?"

I slammed the last suitcase shut. "I was afraid I'd catch syphilis."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind!"

He finally tore off the mask, cursing at the top of his lungs. "It's just a bottle of wine! Is all this necessary? When did you turn into someone this impossible!"

I couldn't be bothered wasting words on him.

"I've packed your things. They're by the door. Come get them yourself."

"And one more thing. We're done."

Then I hung up and blocked him.

The world went quiet.

I slid to the floor, drained, hugging that pile of fakes, and the tears finally came.

Not for Liam. For myself.

For three years of a real heart thrown to the dogs.

I showed up outside the county clerk's office right on time.

A black Bentley was parked at the curb.

The window came down, revealing Donald's almost unfairly handsome face.

He'd gotten thinner, his features sharper, and he watched me with quiet eyes, something churning in them I couldn't read.

"Get in."

I pulled the door open and got in.

The car carried a faint scent of cedar, the smell I used to love most.

"How did you know I—"

"I always knew."

He cut me off, his voice a little hoarse. "Where you lived, who you were with. I knew all of it."

My heart felt like something had knocked against it.

He'd known all along, and never once come to disturb me.

"Why?"

He didn't look at me. He started the car.

"The doctor said forcing you might make you break down."

"I didn't dare gamble on it."

The car eased steadily into the flow of traffic.

I watched the neon rushing backward outside the window, and suddenly asked.

"Why did we... get married in the first place?"

Donald's fingers tightened on the wheel.

"You forgot, so you forgot. It doesn't matter."

His tone was flat, but I heard the hurt in it all the same.

A man who cut down anyone in his path in business had let me see him hurt.

The resentment Liam had stirred up in me scattered, most of it, in an instant.

"So where are we... going now?"

I asked though I already knew.

He turned his head and glanced at me.

"Didn't you want a divorce?"

His throat moved once. "I'll give it to you."