Chapter 2

"Talk about what?"

I leaned back against the headboard.

"Talk about how you played me for two whole years? Or talk about how skillfully you bounced between two women?"

"I didn't."

"Then tell me: last weekend when you claimed you were working late, were you at the office, or at home tucking your kid into bed?"

Silence hung over the line.

I already knew the answer.

"Chloe."

His voice grew raspy.

"I know I messed up. But can you give me one chance? I swear I'll divorce her. I keep my promises."

"Sean, do you honestly believe that as long as you throw money at me and say sweet words, I'll wait around forever?"

My voice began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Did you really think I couldn't live without you?"

"I never thought that."

"Then why are you still lying to me right now?"

"I—"

"Go back," I said, closing my eyes. "Go back to your house. Go back to your wife and your kid. Don't ever come looking for me again."

"Chloe—"

I ended the call and blocked his number.

The room fell deadly quiet.

Outside, night had fallen. City neon lights leaked through the gaps in the blinds, flickering against the ceiling.

I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them.

About forty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Then came the sound of a key turning in the lock.

My head snapped up. The door swung open, and Sean stood in the doorway, holding a massive bouquet of red roses and several luxury shopping bags.

He wore a charcoal dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was messy, as if he had sprinted all the way here.

He set the flowers on the entryway console, kicked off his dress shoes, and walked in.

"Chloe." He knelt down in front of me, looking up and reaching for my hand.

I shifted away, avoiding his touch.

His hand hovered in midair, frozen for two seconds, before he slowly pulled it back.

"I know you're furious. Say whatever you want, I'll take it."

He took a velvet jewelry box from one of the bags and clicked it open. Inside lay a diamond necklace, its center stone catching the light with a blinding sparkle.

"I ordered this last week for our anniversary."

I looked down at the necklace.

It was gorgeous. Just his style—tasteful, delicate, and outrageously expensive.

Whenever he gifted me things like this in the past, I felt cherished.

Looking at it now, it was nothing but an insult.

"Whenever your conscience hurts, you buy something expensive," I said.

The expression on his face cracked, his tender mask slipping.

"Chloe, don't talk like that."

"How should I talk, then?"

"I don't give you things for the reasons you think. I buy them because I care about you, because I want to make you happy."

"Then why didn't you ever make me public?"

Once again, he fell silent.

I had asked him that question countless times.

Every time, he had an excuse ready.

*The timing isn't right. Family matters are complicated. It might hurt my career.*

I had swallowed every single one of those excuses.

I had even gaslit myself into believing that as long as two people truly loved each other, a public title didn't matter.

Now I had my answer.

He had a family.

He couldn't go public.

Because the moment he did, the two parallel lives he painstakingly maintained would violently collide.

"Sean," I looked him dead in the eye. "Get out."

He didn't move.

"I'm not breaking up with you," he said, his voice dropping low. "I've been genuine with you these past two years. You know that deep down."

"Genuine?" A dry laugh slipped from my throat. "Your idea of being genuine was turning me into your dirty little secret?"