Chapter 1

My husband was supposed to be deathly allergic to alcohol. He wouldn't touch a single thing that had even a drop of it.

During our first year of marriage, I made Beef Bourguignon. He threw a massive tantrum, flipped the entire dining table, and screamed, asking if I was trying to murder him.

Since then, not a single drop of alcohol was allowed in our house. I didn't even dare to buy rum chocolates.

But just moments ago, at our college reunion, he took a glass of red wine from a female classmate and drank the whole thing in one draft.

I wasn’t shocked. I just turned around and handed him a divorce agreement.

Our friends and family immediately accused me of making a scene out of nothing.

Ethan, furious, poured the rest of his red wine right onto my dress.

"Hailey was just trying to help me blend in since everyone else was drinking. She poured me a glass out of kindness. What is your problem?"

"Besides, Hailey is already married and a mother. Do you really need to hold a grudge against an old classmate?"

I let out a soft laugh, turned around, picked up a full bottle of red wine from the table, poured a glass to the brim, and shoved it right in front of Ethan’s face.

"Oh, so you can drink now? Keep going then. Drink up!"

"Are you insane?"

Ethan slapped the wine glass out of my hand.

The glass shattered on the hardwood floor.

Hailey rushed over immediately, pulling out wet wipes from her bag to wipe the wine off his hands.

"Ethan, don't be mad. Chloe probably just had too much to drink."

Ethan shielded her behind his back and sneered at me.

"Chloe, have you learned how to humiliate me in public now?"

"Chloe." First and last name. He only called me that when he despised me the most.

"You just drank the red wine Hailey poured for you. A whole glass. Not a single drop left."

My voice wasn't loud, but the table at this reunion was only about ten feet wide. Everyone heard me.

"That's because Hailey was being polite! Everyone was drinking. How awkward would it be if I was the only one holding a water glass?"

"Three years ago, because I made Beef Bourguignon, you flipped the dinner table and claimed I was trying to kill you."

A flicker of guilt crossed Ethan's face, but it was quickly masked by anger.

"How is that the same? I barely touched the wine with my lips just to be polite. I didn't actually swallow it. Can you stop making things up?"

Chugging an entire glass in one go is now called "barely touching your lips."

The former classmates around the table started chiming in.

"Come on, Chloe, stop making a scene. Ethan just wanted to fit in."

"Exactly. Hailey didn't mean any harm. She's a mom now. Do you really need to go after her?"

Hailey lowered her head right on cue.

"Chloe, this is all my fault. I shouldn't have poured the wine for Ethan. If you two fight because of me, I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life."

"Look at you! You've terrified Hailey!" Ethan pointed a finger at me.

"Forcing me to drink in front of all these people—do you really want me to go into anaphylactic shock and die right here?"

I stared at his hands. There wasn't a single hives outbreak. Not even a red spot.

Three years ago, when he accidentally touched red wine, his whole body swelled up for two days. His hands and neck were covered in bright red rashes. The paramedics had to give him an EpiPen shot to bring it down.

Today, after a whole glass of red wine, his skin was clearer than Hailey's.

"Aren't you allergic? Why hasn't a single red spot appeared after a whole glass of wine?"

The table fell dead silent for a second.

"I took my allergy meds beforehand, okay? How much longer are you going to interrogate me?"

Hailey nodded quickly in agreement.

"Yes, exactly! Ethan told me before leaving the house that he brought his meds. He said he'd be fine as long as he didn't drink too much."

"She knew." He told her before leaving the house.

But when he left our apartment today, he never mentioned a single thing to me about drinking.

"Since you took your meds and you're fine, drink another glass. Show me that you're truly okay."

Ethan clenched his fists and loosened his tie.

"You are sick."

"If you don't drink, it proves your allergy is fake. If you do, it proves the allergy never existed, and you only flipped that table three years ago to make me feel guilty for the rest of my life."

"No matter what, I lose, right?" Ethan smiled coldly.

He leaned down and whispered in my ear.

"If you dare to sign those divorce papers, don't expect to get a single penny from me."

He straightened up and offered an apologetic smile to the rest of the table.

"Sorry, everyone. My wife has been under a lot of stress lately. I’ll take her home first."

Then, he walked toward the parking lot. Hailey followed closely behind him and slipped into his passenger seat.

I stood frozen in place. I reached into my bag only to realize he had taken my car keys before leaving.

The country club was in the outer suburbs, twenty-five miles from the city. There was no public transit. My Uber app showed the nearest driver was fifty minutes away.

In my high heels, I began walking down the dark winding road.

After about twenty minutes, my phone rang.

An unknown number.

"Hello, is this Ethan’s wife? I’m calling from the Luna Wine Cellar customer service. We wanted to confirm the annual tasting package Ethan and Hailey booked last week. Should the invoice still be billed to Ethan’s personal account?"

"What wine cellar?"

"Luna Wine Cellar. Ethan is one of our founding members. This is his third year with us."

Third year.

During our first year of marriage, he told me he almost died from an alcohol allergy.

That same year, he became a founding member of a private wine cellar.

"Don't worry about the invoice. He won't be your member for much longer."