Chapter 1 From Fool to Fierce

(Ivy)

My husband’s mistress Piper Redfern has posted again.

My care factor over what my cheating bastard husband gets up to is zero.

But, unfortunately, watching his pregnant mistress overshare every detail of her life online is like a car crash.

You know you should keep driving, but you can’t look away.

Her million followers call them the perfect couple and ask when he’s going to propose.

Hashtag couple goals.

Hashtag cheating assholes.

But I’ll have the last laugh. Nash Hawke is almost a divorced man.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

A photo fills my screen.

Piper’s bare shoulders peek out from beneath a charcoal designer duvet while she leans against the man whose face is, as always, carefully cropped out.

My eyes lock on the bedding.

No...

That duvet...

I look at the one I’m sitting on now.

I swipe to the next photo.

A brass bedside lamp like the one next to my wine bottle.

Another swipe.

The edge of a painting. My painting I commissioned in Italy! One of a kind frame.

Holy shit! I jump to my feet. She’s been here. God knows how many times.

That bastard.

It’s one thing to screw your mistress. It’s another to do it in our home.

Pure fury surges through me. I want to punch him right in the face and set her hair on fire.

But I can’t let Nash know I know yet.

And he will want to know why we aren’t in our room tonight.

Because I’m never sleeping on the same mattress that cheating bastard had his homewrecking whore on.

I jump to my feet, grab the bottle of red wine from my bedside table, rip down the duvet and sheets and pour the red wine all over the mattress and the bedding.

I then ordered a new mattress immediately.

I have to calm down before he gets here. I must act normal for another week.

As if these last three weeks haven't killed me enough.

If he realizes I’ve uncovered everything before the divorce becomes official, he’ll find a way to stop me.

And I refuse to let that happen. I need to remain the clueless wife so I can see him get the ultimate humiliation.

I take everything into the guest bedroom wing and open a new bottle of wine.

Honestly, it doesn’t even matter that he’s cheated now.

What matters is the fact that the husband I’ve loved and blindly trusted for years has taken another woman into our marital bed, our home.

And that woman is having his baby.

We’ve been together since high school. But I held off marriage until we were twenty-seven and I was a qualified surgeon.

Our families, our friends... Everyone who knew us thought we’d be the couple still holding hands in our eighties.

I believed it too. Why wouldn’t I? Our marriage seemed perfect for years.

And I should’ve seen the cracks beginning when three months ago he’d casually asked what I thought about open marriages.

I’d laughed but I was shocked. “No! You’re not serious? There is no way I would ever agree to anything like that!”

It just seemed so out of character for him. 

He smiled and shook his head. Said a colleague had mentioned it and he’d wondered what I thought about it.

“Let me guess,” I said, “Jack Donovan. That man doesn’t have a moral bone in his body, I’m sure.”

“Don’t worry, Ivy. You are the only woman I’ll ever love,” Nash replied and kissed me deeply.

But the truth is, he’d opened the marriage behind my back.

I only discovered the truth because Dad called to announce he’d eloped in Las Vegas.

After ten years as a widower, he’d married a woman he’d fallen head over heels for and wanted me to organize a surprise reception for family and friends.

While looking into my new stepmother’s family, I found her daughter.

Piper Redfern. The influencer.

One of her photos caught the edge of a man’s wrist.

The watch.

I’d given it to Nash for our fifth wedding anniversary.

From there, everything unraveled.

Piper wasn’t the first woman. She was simply the latest.

The deeper I dug, the uglier the truth became.

He’d been cheating since before we were married.

Most of our mutual friends already knew.

And Piper...

Piper was carrying his baby.

I cried. I screamed. My heart shattered.

Then I stopped being hurt and sad.

Instead, I made a plan. I tricked Nash into signing the divorce papers.

Accepted a position across the country as Head of Medical Research while continuing my surgical career.

Bought a house.

Planned Dad’s reception and Nash’s demise at the same time.

This week, I meet my new stepsister to finalize the reception.

But she has no idea who I am.

I’m Dr. Ivy Calloway and very few out of our inner circle know who my husband is. I’ve protected my own identity.

I need to keep protecting it until the reception happens.

That evening, he’s home right on schedule.

Nash appears in the doorway of the guest room, loosening his tie.

“Do I want to know why we are sleeping in the guest room tonight?”

No, no you really don’t.

“I accidentally spilled red wine all over the bed,” I say with a shrug. “The replacement mattress should be here soon.”

“No problem.” He lays on the bed and I hand him a wine.

“Thanks,” he says and holds up his phone, “come lay with me for a minute.”

“Why?”

“You need to see something.”

I lay beside him but remained sitting up. “What am I looking at?”

He unlocks his phone and starts swiping through photos.

Tiny baby clothes. A nursery in soft greens and whites.

A stroller. A crib.

Every single photo is familiar.

I’ve already seen them all on Piper’s social media when she posts about her baby news.

She must have sent them to him.

“What do you think of these?” he asks with a grin. “Kind of makes you want one, doesn’t it?”

“I see baby stuff every day, so no, not really.”

Nash wanted children for years. Now his slut is pregnant.

He kept asking me to start a family. I said I wasn’t ready yet. He said he was happy to wait.

My career took all of my time and wanting to be a hands-on Mom made me keep putting it off.

Maybe even a little fear. Babies were not always rainbows and roses, I also saw that daily.

Apparently, he’d gotten sick of waiting.

“Maybe it’s our turn,” he says. “Maybe we should finally start trying for a baby.”

I force a smile. “Maybe.”

“I think the timing’s perfect.”

The timing couldn’t be worse. He’s about to become a divorced man.

His expression softens. “You’ve seemed a little distant lately. Is everything okay?”

“Work’s been exhausting.”

“You work too hard.”

“Occupational hazard.” I smile. “Babies just keep happening.”

He leans up to kiss me.

I let him.

Just enough to keep up appearances.

When he tries to deepen the kiss, I gently pull away.

“I’m sorry. I think my period’s coming early and I have a double shift tomorrow.”

He immediately nods. “You should get some sleep.”

“I think I will.” I reach for the sleeping tablets on the bedside table. “I might even take one of these tonight.”

“If it’ll help.”

He disappears into the ensuite.

The second the shower starts running, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

I never want that man touching me again.

By the time he comes back out, I’ve already closed my eyes.

The open bottle of sleeping tablets sits beside a half-full glass of water.

I slow my breathing, pretending the tablet has already kicked in.

He stands beside the bed for a long moment.

Then I feel his lips brush gently across my forehead. “Goodnight, Ivy.”

A few seconds later, the bedroom door clicks shut.

I wait about ten minutes before opening my eyes. Just to be sure he’s gone.

I reach for my phone. A notification immediately lights up my screen.

Piper has posted again.

I opened it.

Help me choose.

Which lingerie should I wear for him tonight?