Chapter 1

1: 1

In under six months, Madison Pruitt's childhood friend had come by our newlywed apartment nine separate times to haul things away.

Furniture, appliances, even the potted plants and the paintings off the walls. Nothing was safe.

I wanted to call the police every time, and every time Madison stopped me.

"Laurence doesn't come from money. He just started working, could only cover the down payment, and the place is completely empty."

"I told him he could borrow it. It's not like he won't give it back."

"What are you in such a rush about?"

So I swallowed it and bought everything again to fill the gaps.

The tenth time, Laurence carried off my figurine cabinet.

Inside it were pieces I'd collected for years, some of the finest in existence, worth tens of millions.

I'd finally had enough, and I followed him back to his place.

And there I found that the layout and design of his apartment were identical to our newlywed one, down to the last detail.

When I saw the giant wedding portrait of him and Madison hanging in the bedroom, I quietly took out my phone and posted a message in the building residents' group chat.

"Everything in unit 801, free to a good home."

"Anyone want it?"

1

That night, Madison didn't get home until eleven.

She kicked off her heels and peeled off her stockings.

Rubbing her ankle, she drew her words out long and soft. "I'm exhausted. I really don't want to work overtime."

I didn't answer, just watched the light flickering across the TV screen.

Two hours earlier, Laurence had updated his social feed.

A close-up of a movie ticket stub, with a dim theater and a pair of tightly clasped hands in the background.

On the girl's wrist was a bracelet exactly like the one Madison had worn out the door today.

That movie was one I'd been looking forward to for six months. After it opened, I'd asked her three times.

The first time, she said she had a project deadline.

The second time, she said her friend was in a bad mood and needed company.

The third time, just two days ago, she frowned with those delicate brows of hers and turned me down. "What's so great about that kind of shoot-'em-up sci-fi movie? All that noise gives me a headache. I'd rather rest at home."

So it wasn't that the movie wasn't good. It was a matter of who she'd watch it with.

She came over and sat down next to me.

"Rub my legs for me, they're so sore."

A faint smell of buttery popcorn and sweetness, mixed with men's cologne, drifted quietly off her.

I didn't move.

"Orson Dickerson, I'm talking to you. Why aren't you reacting at all?"

She nudged me lightly with her elbow, that familiar little note of complaint in her voice.

"Mm. I heard you."

There wasn't a trace of anything in my voice.

She seemed to notice something was off, and turned to study my face.

But maybe she was in too good a mood, because that flicker of doubt was quickly pushed aside.

She got up and headed for the bathroom.

"I'm dead tired. I'm going to take a shower first."

When she came out, she slipped under the covers trailing damp warmth and the floral scent of body wash, and curled toward my side the way she always did.

Her hand settled on my chest, fingertips tracing idle circles.

"Sweetie..."

Her voice went softer still, the last syllable rising in a sticky little lilt.

It was the tone she always used when she wanted something.

"Hm?"

"Laurence showed me this big round Italian-style bed today. It's really so beautiful!"

"The design is really luxurious, and the leather headboard looks so high-end just at a glance. It would look so impressive in the bedroom of our apartment."

She lifted her eyes, and in the dim glow of the bedside lamp they were bright and full of longing.

"Let's get a new bed, okay? The one we have feels too ordinary, and it's not that comfortable to lie on either."

I looked into her eyes. The outline of the ceiling light was mirrored there clearly, but it seemed unable to reach anything deeper.

The room was very quiet, quiet enough that I could hear her shallow breathing.

I didn't say yes right away the way I usually did, and I didn't say no either.

I just looked back at her calmly and spoke.

"Should we buy two?"

"And one of them, I'll just have someone deliver straight to Laurence?"

The air froze in an instant.

Madison's fingers went stiff against my chest.

The mood she'd been so carefully building drained clean off her face.

She snatched her hand back and shifted away from me, opening the distance between us.

"Orson, what nonsense are you talking about?!"

"Everything was fine, so why bring up Laurence? This is completely absurd!"

Her brows knit together tight, her lips pressed into a thin, displeased line.

"I just liked a bed and wanted to swap it out, that's all! Do you have to be this petty?"

"Laurence is out here in the city on his own, and it isn't easy for him. What's wrong with helping out a friend?"

"You're a grown man. Why are you always nickel-and-diming over this kind of thing?"