Chapter 3

When the police hauled me away, I was so furious I screamed at him.

"Vincent Sanchez, have you no shame?"

"Back when you were cornered, you couldn't even scrape together three thousand dollars for a hospital bill. I paid, I worked, and that's the only reason you're standing where you are today."

"And now you think I'm old, so you go chasing after some young thing and want to kick me to the curb!"

"Dream on!"

If I was going down, I was dragging Vincent Sanchez down with me.

But he just let me rage and never once looked back.

Like a prince slipping the glass slipper onto a princess.

Gently, carefully, he fit the diamond-studded heel onto Debbie Pruitt's foot.

"Debbie, don't be scared. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again."

"I'll make Shelagh Mason suffer for it. She'll pay."

Then he lifted her up and put her in the passenger seat that should have been mine.

As I was shoved into the police car, the last thing I saw

was Debbie Pruitt flashing me a smug little smile.

They lectured me in the interrogation room.

"Why the kidnapping?"

I kept my head down. "She stole my money."

"Stole your money? Then why not call the police?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "Because my husband was in on it."

By the end of the questioning, they ruled it a civil dispute born of a domestic falling-out.

"Ms. Mason, if you want to recover marital property, you can take it through the courts."

"But next time, don't use such reckless, heavy-handed methods."

It went in one ear and out the other.

In the end it was my best friend, Leah Farley, who bailed me out.

"How did it blow up this badly?"

Leah asked, curious, while she drove.

"You always used to say something and Vincent Sanchez would listen."

"What happened this time?"

I shook my head and slumped back against the seat.

I didn't even have the will to explain.

I couldn't understand where I'd lost.

He was the one who said it. Grow old together.

Even after my face was scarred, he never held it against me.

I couldn't believe he'd suddenly change his heart

just because I was getting older, my looks fading.

"Leah, I can't figure out what that girl has that's better than me."

"He stays out night after night, hands his money to some other woman."

"No matter how bad it got before, he never once mentioned divorce."

"But now he's grown some backbone, and he actually brought up divorce with me."

Leah glanced back at me, startled, her eyes full of sympathy.

"Honestly? You're better off divorced."

I said nothing. After all these years as friends, she knew I couldn't accept it.

"I'm not defending Vincent Sanchez."

"But you two have already come this far. This marriage is a shell. There's no point forcing it to keep going."

"Besides, an ungrateful stray you'll never win over. Are you sure you still want him?"

Back home, I turned Leah's words over carefully.

But before I could sort them out, the private investigator I'd hired brought a bombshell.

"What did you say? Debbie Pruitt is... pregnant?"

I sat back down with a bitter laugh.

"Of course. Young girls, always in such good health."

"No wonder Vincent Sanchez would rather divorce me than give her up."

The one thing Vincent Sanchez hated most in this world was an illegitimate child.

Because he was one himself, the product of some man's careless one-night stand.

He grew up like an orphan.

Even after that man took him back, he kept a knot of pride buried in his chest and would rather die than acknowledge the family name.

That's why more than once he held me and said,

"Let's have a child."

"Give the child a whole, complete family."

But later he forgot the words he'd spoken with his own mouth.

He fell for some girl out there like a man gone mad.

And got her pregnant.

That night, Vincent Sanchez came home worn out and found me curled up on the couch in the dark.

"Why aren't the lights on?"

I didn't look up. "Vincent Sanchez, let's talk."

After I turned on the light,

there was a home-purchase contract laid out in front of me, worth twenty million dollars.

A new gift Vincent Sanchez had bought for Debbie Pruitt.

"Tell me. Why?"

Vincent Sanchez was silent for a long time.

"Since you already know, there's no point hiding it from you."

"Because Debbie is worth it."

I was struck dumb, and then it hit me and I laughed in disbelief.

"So you live in my villa, drive my luxury car, spend my money—"

"and all of it is because I'm not worth it?"

Six years of marriage, and the times Vincent Sanchez spent his money on me could be counted on one hand.

He always said I was too capable, too strong, that I was his model, his compass.

Always said that once he was worth a fortune, he'd shield me from every storm.

But he grew into a towering tree, and then went off to shelter some other girl.

Faced with my questions, all he said, with a clear conscience, was that she was worth it.

"Don't cry."

He pulled out a tissue and wiped my tears away, light and unbothered.

"It's not that you're not worth it, Shelagh. You've always been wonderful, brilliant. You're the powerhouse I've always admired."

"It's just that Debbie is pregnant."

As he spoke, he pushed the divorce papers back in front of me again.

"So let's get divorced."