Chapter 1 - The Tenth Anniversary
The silk gown felt like a second skin, heavy and shimmering under the warm glow of the chandelier in our Manhattan dining room. I had spent three hours preparing dinner—a three-course meal featuring vintage Cabernet, roasted duck, and handcrafted truffles from the artisan bakery on 5th Avenue.
It was September 15th. Our tenth wedding anniversary.
My husband, Andrew Carter, had been delayed at the office. Or at least, that was the excuse he had texted me two hours ago. When he finally walked through the front door at half-past eight, his tie was slightly loosened, his dark hair ruffled, and a weary, practiced smile plastered across his handsome face.
"Happy anniversary, sweetheart," Andrew murmured, stepping close to kiss my cheek. His breath carried the faint, bitter tang of scotch and an unfamiliar floral perfume—jasmine and clove.
"Happy anniversary, Andrew," I replied smoothly, ignoring the knot tightening in my stomach. "You look exhausted. Let me take your briefcase."
"No, it's fine, I've got it," he said quickly, reaching for the leather bag. But as he tried to pull away, his hand slipped against the brass clasp. The leather flap swung open, tumbling the contents onto the hardwood floor of the foyer.
Documents scattered. A silver fountain pen rolled toward the baseboard.
And resting right beside my shoe were two items that didn't belong in a corporate executive's briefcase.
A crumpled receipt from The Grand Bay Hotel—a luxury boutique resort three hours outside the city—dated for two nights later, this coming Friday.
And tucked beneath the paper receipt was a small, square foil packet. An unopened condom.
We hadn't used protection in seven years. Ever since the doctors told us that my severe uterine scarring made carrying a child virtually impossible.
My blood ran cold, but my hands remained entirely steady. I bent down, gathered the loose papers, and scooped up the receipt and the tiny foil square, pressing them into Andrew's open palm.
"You dropped these," I said, my voice as calm as still water.
Andrew’s face drained of color for a fraction of a second before he recovered, slapping a booming, hearty laugh over his panic. "Ah, damn it! That's... that's from the bachelor party package we're organizing for Mark in sales. The guys at the office were slipping gag items into everyone's bags today. Ridiculous locker-room humor."
"Of course," I said with a faint smile. "A gag gift."
"I'll go wash up before dinner," he said rapidly, practically sprinting toward the upstairs master suite.
I stood alone in the foyer for a long moment, listening to the quiet tick of the grandfather clock. Ten years of marriage. Ten years of building his reputation, managing his schedule, holding his hand through every board meeting, and enduring the quiet, biting dismissals from his mother and brother.
A quiet murmur echoed from the hallway near the rear terrace.
I walked silently toward the cracked mahogany door leading to Andrew's home office. Through the gap, I saw Andrew sitting behind his desk. Standing beside him, leaning against the edge of the dark wood with a glass of wine in her hand, was Victoria—my sister-in-law, married to Andrew's younger brother, Julian.
Victoria was a woman made of ice and polished diamonds. She had married into the Carter family six years ago and made it her personal mission to remind everyone that she came from old Greenwich money, whereas I was merely a doctor's daughter.
"Did she suspect anything?" Victoria whispered, her tone laced with amusement.
"No," Andrew grunted, pouring himself two fingers of bourbon. "She bought the gag-gift story. Maya is naive. She believes whatever I tell her."
Victoria let out a cruel, tinkling laugh that sounded like shattered glass. "Good. A barren wife like her has no place in this family anyway. She’s held onto the Carter name far too long."
Andrew didn't defend me. He didn't hesitate. He simply took a slow sip of his drink and chuckled.
"She’ll be gone before she even realizes what happened," Andrew said smoothly. "Everything is set for Friday at The Grand Bay."
I stood in the shadows of the hallway. My chest didn't heave. My eyes didn't fill with tears. The heartbreak was so sharp, so absolute, that it incinerated every last trace of affection I had ever felt for the man inside that room.
They thought I was the pathetic, grieving woman standing outside their perfect little conspiracy.
May you like
They were dead wrong.
I reached into my pocket, pulled out my smartphone, and quietly activated the high-definition voice recorder app.
