Chapter 2

Looking at the dense rows of photos on the laptop screen, my blood ran cold.

The woman in the photos was Sienna Ward.

She was a charity case—a low-income college student I had personally sponsored through my family's foundation years ago.

And the boy Julian was holding high in the air had his exact facial features. They looked like they were cast from the same mold.

Thousands of photos documented the boy's life from birth to five years old.

Just an hour ago, Julian had been holding our feverish daughter, crying and saying he wished he could take her pain away.

Yet, he had just updated a status in this hidden album:

"The useless brat is sick again. So annoying. Crying in the middle of the night keeping me awake. My son is strong, just like me."

Click.

The sound of keys turning came from the front door.

Julian was back.

Panicked, I closed the tab and pulled the power cord of my laptop.

"Babe? Why are the lights off?"

Julian's voice came from the living room, sounding as gentle as ever.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stand up.

"I'm... putting Lily to sleep."

Julian pushed the bedroom door open, holding a cheap pink plush toy.

"Look what Daddy got for his little princess! I saw it on the street and thought it was so cute."

He smiled and walked over, reaching out to feel Lily's forehead.

Instinctively, I stepped in front of him, blocking his hand.

His hand hung in mid-air. He looked at me, surprised.

"What's wrong, Chloe? Still worried about her fever?"

I stared at his face.

This was the face I had loved for seven years. The man I thought was the most honest, hardworking husband in the world.

Now, he just looked disgusting.

"No. I'm just worried your hands are cold. I don't want to shock her awake."

I looked away, not wanting him to see the burning hatred in my eyes.

Julian didn't care. He tossed the cheap toy onto the nightstand.

"Good. You scared me. I was so worried at the office today that I couldn't even focus on work."

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him quickly switch accounts on Snapchat, his fingers flying across the screen.

No doubt he was texting her.

"Babe, you've had a long day. Go take a shower. I'll watch the baby."

He gently guided me toward the bathroom, his voice dripping with affection.

The moment the bathroom door closed, I heard him whisper outside.

"Hey, buddy, not asleep yet? Do you miss Daddy?"

It was completely different from the dismissive tone he used when calling our daughter "little princess."

I turned on the faucet and let the cold water splash over my face.

The woman in the mirror had a pale face and red eyes.

This was me. Chloe Miller.

For him, I had given up a high-paying corporate job to become a housewife, turning myself into a tired, neglected woman.

And in his private notes, I was just a "maid" and a "stupid spendthrift."

Since you love acting so much, Julian...

I'll play along.

My phone buzzed.

It was a Snapchat from Julian: "Babe, why is the shared album lagging? Did you touch something?"

Even through the screen, I could feel his panic.

"No, I just cleared my cache. Why?"