Chapter 2

It was the third day after Dad sent me to the psychiatric hospital for "treatment". He thought I needed fixing for being lovestruck and refusing to let go of a broke young man, as if it were some kind of illness. Tristan had spent the whole night wedged inside a ventilation duct. When the caregivers switched shifts at dawn, he pried open the window to my room. "Jump!" he called from below, his arms spread wide. I shut my eyes and jumped. As he caught me, the impact took him down. Even when his elbow hit the ground with a sickening crack, he didn't loosen his grip on me. Once we made it somewhere safe, he slid down the wall and sat there, his shirt soaked through with sweat. He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast. "Riley." His eyes were so red that it scared me. "Listen to me. Since I managed to get you out of there today, nothing can ever make us split up again." He dug into his pocket and pulled something out. It was a thin silver ring he'd picked up at a night market stall. He'd carved a crooked "R" on the inner curve. His hand shook when he slid it onto my finger. "When I have money, I'll get you the biggest diamond," he said, his voice trembling, as if he couldn't bear the thought of me settling for something cheap. The sun had been just as bright that day, glaring down on his young face and making his eyes sparkle. Back then, I thought we would be together forever. ... Not long after I got back to my office, my assistant, Margot Vickers, knocked on the door and stepped in. "Ms. Aiken, this is the summary of the accounts that received special approval while you were away this week," she said. She set a tablet in front of me, then hesitated. "And... Ms. Robertson's expenses need to be reviewed." I scrolled through the tablet. Scarlett had spent on custom lingerie from Belloria, a luxury spa retreat, a premium hotel suite… I kept scrolling, then stopped at the last item—a consultation at a private obstetrics and gynecology hospital. Margot added carefully, "Finance said that… these were all put under 'employee benefits'. Mr. Godfrey gave special approval." I set my mug of coffee down. "How long has Scarlett worked here?" "Three months," Margot replied. I nodded and didn't ask anything else. "If Tristan approved it, process it as usual." Margot didn't move. Her fingers twisted at the edge of her skirt like she was trying to talk herself out of something. "Ms. Aiken, there's something I don't know if I should say." "Say it." "The first day you left, she... she pulled Mr. Godfrey onto your chair..." She took a deep breath, her face tightening. "I walked past and heard it. She laughed and said she didn't want to hold back at all." My eyes went straight to my office chair. Tristan had specially ordered it from Marenna back when we were building the company from the ground up. He'd said, "Your back always hurts. This chair will be better for your spine." What Margot told me didn't surprise me. Scarlett was in her early 20s. She wasn't like the women before her, who stayed cautious because they were afraid of making Tristan angry or losing their jobs. Scarlett was brazen. She wanted every hickey photographed up close, like proof. A trophy like that was never meant to stay private. Of course, she would send it to me. Last Wednesday at 2:00 am, I was still awake at the hotel during my business trip, grinding through a proposal, when my phone suddenly lit up. I had received a photo from an unfamiliar number. The moment I opened it, I couldn't even process what I was looking at. Then, I realized it was my office. The woman's face wasn't visible, but she was sitting in my chair, and Tristan was bending over to kiss her. Below the photo was a line of text. "It's actually pretty comfortable doing it in this chair." I couldn't see her face, but I already knew who she was. I didn't respond to the messages. The wall I'd built in my chest suddenly collapsed. That was why I'd come back to handle an "urgent" matter—my divorce. Tristan hadn't noticed the divorce agreement tucked under the funding request form for the western suburb project.