Chapter 1

In three years of marriage, Dick Barnes gave me twenty-seven pieces of expensive jewelry.

Everyone outside said Mrs. Barnes was spoiled beyond measure.

But on the night of our anniversary, he was trending online at another woman's side.

The sapphire brooch that passed only to the daughters-in-law of the Barnes family was pinned right over that woman's heart.

I called him. All I got was one irritated warning.

"Monica Sawyer's brand relaunch needs a strong showing. Be reasonable about this."

I looked at the food gone cold on the table, and just like that, I became reasonable.

A man you can't warm up is like a heavy, ugly stone you're forced to wear. What use did I have for him?

That same night I took off my wedding ring, and along with the twenty-seven pieces and a divorce agreement that left me with nothing, I stacked them all into a box in the living room.

Whoever wanted to be Mrs. Barnes could have the title.

I was going back to the university to be Professor Coleman again.

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Dick only found the box the next day.

By then I was already sitting in the university's HR office, signing my contract.

My phone buzzed a dozen times.

I didn't answer.

Once the paperwork was done, Dick's assistant was waiting at the foot of the administration building, holding out a phone.

"Ma'am, Mr. Barnes wants you to come back now."

I took the call. On the other end, his voice was low.

"Amy Coleman, one piece of jewelry is missing."

I flipped open the list I'd left behind.

"Impossible."

"My mother's wedding gift to you isn't in the box."

"The jade bangle?"

"Yes."

"It broke three years ago."

Two seconds of silence, thick with disbelief.

"How did it break?"

Holding my faculty offer, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

The first year we were married, I ran a high fever. Coming out of the bathroom, everything went black and I hit the floor.

I called Dick three times.

The third call went through. Monica was crying beside him.

Dick was with her, filing a police report.

He couldn't have been more annoyed.

"Find the housekeeper."

The shards dug into my palm.

The housekeeper took me to the hospital for seven stitches.

Afterward I gave the broken bangle to the family estate. His mother thought it was bad luck and had someone throw it out.

I got home that night with my hand still wrapped in gauze.

He saw it, and all he did was demand why I'd let a servant into his study.

I explained.

He didn't listen.

Three years on, he didn't even know how that scar got there.

I watched the road ahead.

"The divorce agreement spells it out clearly. Twenty-seven pieces of jewelry, twenty-six intact, one broken. I've already wired the appraised value to your mother's account."

His breathing turned heavy.

"You had to pull this on our anniversary?"

I was strangely calm.

"The anniversary already passed. Last night was the first time you ever remembered to come home."

He paused a few seconds, then softened his tone.

"I'll come back for my things. The brooch was just lent to Monica for one night. Her brand is relaunching. She needed a piece with enough presence to carry the room."

"So I gave it all back to you. From now on, whatever she wants to wear, she doesn't have to go through me."

That got a rise out of him.

"She and I aren't the kind of relationship you think."

I'd heard that line too many times.

Monica had a stomachache, so he stayed with her all night. Not that kind of relationship. Monica was scared of thunder, so he stayed at her apartment until dawn. Not that kind of relationship. Both families were paying respects to the ancestors, and he left me stranded halfway to turn back for her call. Also not that kind of relationship.

I never caught them kissing. Never saw them in bed.

And so Dick was convinced he'd done nothing wrong at all.

But my marriage didn't die on a bed.

It died in the chair across the dinner table that was always empty.

It died in every minute I spent talking while he looked down to answer Monica's messages.

"Whatever the two of you are, it's got nothing to do with me anymore."

A cold laugh came through the phone.

"I've read the agreement. Our two families still have four years left on the partnership. You divorce now, can the Coleman family afford the penalty?"

I snapped a photo of my statement forfeiting the family dividends and sent it to him.

"They can. What little is in my name is enough to cover the Coleman shortfall. Beyond that, I don't want a share of your premarital assets, I don't want the Barnes house, and I don't want compensation."

The other end went silent.

He had always assumed I couldn't walk away from this marriage.