Chapter 3

That night, Brooke sent me a lawyer's contact card.

"Ms. Grant, the best divorce lawyer in the business. I booked you for 10 a.m. the day after tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Ava, have you thought it through? Do you know Ryan's asset situation?"

I scrolled through my phone gallery.

Over the past three months, I'd taken a lot of screenshots.

The selfies Chloe sent me on the nights Ryan said he was working late.

The hotel location and couple's dinner Chloe posted on the weekend he said he was on a business trip.

And the breakfast photo from this morning, taken in my kitchen.

"I know. I have enough evidence too."

"All right, see you the day after tomorrow."

After hanging up, I leaned back in the visitor's chair and stared at the ceiling.

Noah was already asleep, breathing evenly, his little hand still clutching the hem of my shirt.

I suddenly thought of seven years ago, when Ryan knelt in front of me to propose.

Back then, he had just started his business, and he was broke. The ring was silver, and the diamond was so small you could barely see it.

But his eyes were bright like stars, and he said he would definitely treat me and our child well for the rest of his life.

We got married the second year, Noah was born, and the company also started getting on track.

I thought life would only get better.

Now that I think about it, it was probably from that time on that he got busier and busier.

Busy enough to not have time for his son, busy enough to forget there was still a wife at home waiting for him.

My phone buzzed again.

It wasn't Ryan. It was Chloe.

She sent a new message.

The location was a high-end Japanese restaurant in town.

The photo showed a table full of food, and across from it sat someone whose face wasn't visible, only one hand.

I recognized that hand.

A platinum wedding band, the anniversary gift I gave him last year, sat on his ring finger.

I took a screenshot and saved it in my encrypted album.

Then I turned off my phone and closed my eyes.

On the third day of Noah's hospitalization, his fever finally broke for good.

The doctor said we could go home after one more day of observation, and I finally let out a breath and took time off work.

I was a creative director at an advertising company, and I happened to have a big project in hand. The client wanted the proposal next week.

But I couldn't think about that right now.

Megan's recommended lawyer was named Lena Grant. She was known in the circle as a steel magnolia and specialized in high-net-worth divorce cases. None of the cases she'd taken had ever lost.

I set up a meeting at the firm for 10 a.m. and arrived at 9:30.

Lena was younger than I expected, in her early thirties, with short hair and a sharp black suit. She spoke fast, but her logic was clear.

"Ms. Grant, Megan gave me a rough rundown of your situation. Show me the evidence."

I handed her my phone. She went through it for three minutes, and the crease between her brows only grew deeper.

"These messages and photos are useful, but not enough."

"What else do you need?"

"Bank statements, property records, company equity structure. If you can get his chats with that woman or hotel records, even better."

I was quiet for a moment.

"I don't really have access to the company side. The shares are all under his name."

"You've been married seven years, and the company was founded after the marriage. Under the law, you have half the rights."

Lena looked at me, her gaze sharp.

"The real question is how you want to split this. Agreement divorce or litigation?"

"If agreement is possible, that's best. I don't want this dragged out too long."

"Then let's talk first. Tell me your bottom line, and I'll draft the agreement."

When I walked out of the firm, it had started raining.

There were several messages on my phone, all from Ryan's mother.

"Ava, what's going on with you and Noah? Ryan says you're throwing a fit and picking fights with him. As a wife, can't you be more understanding of your husband?"

I didn't reply.

No matter what happened, her son was always right, and I was always wrong.

The year Noah was born, I had postpartum depression, and my mother-in-law said I was overthinking things.

When Ryan's startup failed, I took out my dowry money to plug the hole, and my mother-in-law said that was only right.

Now that he'd found someone else outside, my mother-in-law said I was making a scene.

I got into a rideshare and gave the driver the hospital address.

As we passed that Japanese restaurant, I glanced inside.

It was 11:30 a.m. and there weren't many people in the restaurant, but a woman was sitting by the window, drinking coffee.

Chloe.

She had changed into a white dress. No one was sitting across from her, but there were two coffees on the table.

The next second, my phone rang.

It was an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Ava, it's me, Chloe."