Chapter 1

While my fiancé was in the fitting room trying on his suit, his phone lit up on the couch.

"Babe, I just put down the deposit for the luxury maternity retreat. When are you finally going to break it off with her?"

I glanced at his smug silhouette behind the curtain, picked up the phone, and typed back:

"Tonight. The house is under her name, so go ahead and call the movers for me."

Five days until our engagement party.

Ethan was inside the bridal boutique's fitting room trying on his tailored tuxedo while I sat on the plush sofa scrolling through my phone.

The tailor popped out to say the waist needed taking in and pulled him back in to measure.

His phone was resting on the cushion right next to me, screen facing up.

A notification banner popped up.

The contact was saved as "Baby," paired with a profile picture of a girl smiling behind a cute cat filter.

"Babe, I just put down the deposit for the luxury maternity retreat. When are you finally going to break it off with her?"

I stared at the screen for five long seconds.

Then another five.

Just to make sure my eyes weren't playing tricks on me.

"Maternity retreat." Those words stung like needles piercing straight into my retinas.

I didn't make a sound.

Ethan stepped out of the fitting room, spinning in front of the full-length mirror. "How do I look?"

"Great."

"Should we lock this one in, then?"

"Definitely," I said with a sweet smile. "You only get engaged once in a lifetime. We should have the absolute best."

While he walked over to the counter to swipe his card, I picked up his phone and opened the chat.

I scrolled up.

The chat history was scrubbed clean, leaving only that single, lonely message.

His social feed interactions, however, were wide open.

He had liked every single post from that girl. One from three days ago read: "So excited for our date tomorrow~"

The location tag was a luxury boutique hotel uptown.

I took a screenshot and sent it to myself.

Then, I opened his Notes app.

The latest note read: "The condo is in her name. Find a way to make her move out voluntarily. Or convince her to sign over the deed to me under the excuse of consolidating joint assets after marriage."

The timestamp was last Wednesday.

The exact night he claimed he was working late at the office until 11:00 PM.

Turns out, he wasn't working. He was working on scamming me out of my real estate.

I screenshotted the note, too.

After wiping all traces of my browsing history, I set the phone back down in its exact position.

"Let's go, babe. I'm taking you out for high-end sushi," Ethan said, sliding an arm around my waist after paying.

"Sounds wonderful."

The omakase place he booked cost around two hundred dollars a person. In the past, I would have winced at the bill.

Today, I didn't care at all.

After all, it was going on his card.

Throughout dinner, my mind spun with questions.

Who was this "Baby"?

When did it start?

How far along was she?

And how exactly did he plan to get me to "move out voluntarily"?

Ethan placed a slice of fresh salmon sashimi on my plate. "What's on your mind?"

"Just thinking about the party," I said, offering a gentle smile. "How many tables do you think we should book?"

"Ten tables should do it. No need to overdo it."

"Sounds good."

I chewed in silence, hatching a plan of my own.

After dinner, I ducked into the restroom and texted my best friend, Rachel.

"Rachel, I need you to run a background check on someone."

"Who?"

"A contact on Ethan's phone. Name is saved as 'Baby,' profile picture is a girl with a cat filter."

"Wait, you suspect him of cheating again?"

"No suspicion. It's confirmed."

Rachel replied instantly: "I freaking knew it! The way he was glued to his phone during our double date last week was so sketchy!"

"Just help me dig up her info first."

"On it. My husband has a buddy working in telecom. I'll have answers by tomorrow afternoon."

The next afternoon, Rachel sent over a full file.

"Vanessa Brooks, 25. An administrative coordinator at Ethan's company. Hired four months ago."

Attached was a photo.

Long flowing hair, doe eyes, a sharp jawline—a textbook Instagram influencer face.

Her public feed was set to the last three days. Her latest post from yesterday read: "With someone by my side, even the toughest days feel sweet."

The photo featured two iced coffees—one labeled "Vane" and the other "Ethan."

The location was the plaza right outside Ethan's office building.

Rachel had managed to view older posts through a burner account.

Two weeks ago: "He promised to take me home to meet his parents as soon as this busy season wraps up."

One month ago: "Finally found you. So glad I held on."

Three months ago: "New job, new chapter, new person."

The timeline was crystal clear.

She hadn't even been at the company for a month before they hooked up.

And Ethan had already fed her the classic line: "I'll take you home to meet my parents once things quiet down."

I couldn't help but wonder—what was I to him?

Three years together, two years living under the same roof, and five days away from our engagement party.

I had visited his hometown, spent holidays with his parents, and met every single one of his friends.

Yet here he was, telling another girl he'd bring her home "after this busy stretch."

After this busy stretch?

Meaning right after our engagement party, right?