Chapter 2

Back in the car, I sent my assistant a message I'd already drafted, telling him to cancel the deal with the Pinelli Group.

That deal had been my sixth anniversary present to Preston.

With it, his company would have had everything it needed to go public.

But Preston didn't deserve it anymore.

He'd find out soon enough that without me, he was nothing!

My phone buzzed again. An Instagram message.

It was photos and video from the people at Lena's party.

In the video Lena was tucked against Preston's chest, sniffling. "I'm sorry, Preston. This is all my fault. I ruined everything. You should go after Winnie and explain, right now. I don't want to be the thing that comes between you."

What a joke.

Her mouth was telling him to go chase me down and apologize, and her arms were locking tighter around him the whole time!

Preston looked down at poor pitiful Lena, heartbroken, and said hotly, "What are you talking about, Lena? Winnie threw a tantrum and ruined your birthday. Until she admits she was wrong, I'm not going anywhere near her!"

"But what if Winnie is really angry with you?" Lena asked, eyes swimming.

Preston sounded absolutely certain. "Not a chance. She does this all the time and she's never held out three days. I promise you, she'll come around this time too. Now stop blaming yourself. You've cried your makeup off that pretty face of yours. Don't let her spoil this. Cheer up, we're not done celebrating."

Watching it play out on my screen, I smiled at the ceiling of the car.

Preston was as sure of himself as ever.

And he wasn't wrong. For five years, whether he threw me a scrap of sweetness or froze me out for weeks, I was always the one who gave in.

He thought my softness was what made him untouchable. He never understood that all of it came from one thing, which was that I still loved him.

But there wasn't any of that love left. He'd spent every last bit of it.

Right now he was certainly picturing me crying in some corner, waiting for him to come and soothe me and forgive me.

Or he expected me to text him at some point and beg him to come home.

He was wrong.

I read the divorce papers through and signed my name.

Then I went back to the house that belonged to Preston and me, and I packed.

Six years of marriage, and I had poured everything I had into that home.

And it was only in that moment that I realized how pitifully little of it was mine.

In an enormous walk-in closet, one small cabinet held a few of my work suits.

In the jewelry drawer, the only two sets I owned were both last-season pieces Preston had given me on anniversaries a couple of years back.

He'd been ashamed when he gave them to me. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. The company's just getting off the ground and this is what I can manage right now. But trust me, next year I swear I'll buy you the finest piece there is, something worthy of you!"

He never understood that the promise meant more to me than anything he could have put in a box.

But life doesn't work that way.

I worked day and night, and the company landed a deal worth more than thirty million dollars. Preston's name was suddenly everywhere.

And that was when he broke his promise.

He gave the credit for all of it to the young, beautiful secretary standing next to him.

On our anniversary, there was no gift and no promise.

There was a photo on Lena's Instagram of the two of them at a candlelit dinner.

That was the first time my heart went cold, and the first time we had a real fight.

He never apologized. He never looked sorry.

He only leaned on Lena more, and with him behind her, she got bolder and bolder. She started crossing lines. She went from handling his work to handling his life, and then she started working on Anna.

I was too busy handling company crises for Preston, and I wasn't there for Anna the way I should have been.

By the time I understood what was happening, Anna belonged to Lena.

I tried to step back from the company and be at home.

But all that got me was more of Preston's criticism.

I thought he would see what I was giving up, that he'd understand how hard it was.

It took him taking Lena's side against me, again and again, before I finally woke up.

I was a tool he'd gotten used to reaching for.

I put the memories away, looked at the single small suitcase that held everything of mine, and pulled out my phone to find the encrypted Family message from the day before.

"Tell me when it's handled. I'll send someone for you myself."

"Dad, I'm ready." I sent the message I'd already written, then carried my suitcase downstairs, only to run into Preston coming through the front door.

Good. Now I didn't have to mail him the papers.

The moment he saw the suitcase his eyebrows came down and he demanded, "Winnie, haven't you made enough of a scene?"

A scene?

I looked at him coldly and said, evenly, "Preston, I'm not making a scene. I've decided to divorce you."