CHAPTER 2

​Amelia stood frozen beside her car door, the cold air of the underground parking garage pressing against her skin.

​"Natalie, that's impossible," Amelia said, trying to keep her voice light. "He left for the airport hours ago. His flight to Chicago was at nine."

​"Amelia, listen to me," Natalie said, her tone dead serious. "I was sitting near the front entrance when they came in. From behind, I actually thought the woman was you for a second because of her dark hair. But when they walked past my table, I saw her face. It wasn't you. And the man holding her hand and pulling out her chair was Adrian."

​Amelia let out a breathless, nervous laugh. "Nat, you're probably misseeing things. L'Orangerie is dark, and half the men in the financial district wear dark suits. It's just a coincidence. Maybe someone happens to look like him."

​"I know what your husband looks like, Amelia," Natalie insisted, her voice dropping lower. "They sat down at a corner booth near the back. He was smiling at her, leaning across the table. They aren't acting like business partners."

​Amelia opened her car door and sat down in the driver's seat, pulling her legs inside and resting her hands on the steering wheel. Her palms were suddenly clammy.

​"Look," Amelia said, forcing herself to sound calm and logical. "I'm definitely sure it's just someone who looks like him, Adrian is in Chicago right now. He had meetings scheduled all afternoon. He's probably at his hotel getting ready for dinner with investors."

​"Hold on," Natalie said. "Don't hang up."

​Silence fell over the line for a few seconds. Amelia heard the faint clinking of glasses and background chatter from the restaurant through the phone.

She sat in the dark interior of her car, her chest tight, telling herself that Natalie was just making a silly mistake.

​A moment later, Amelia's phone vibrated against her ear with a text notification chime.

​"I just sent you a picture," Natalie said quietly. "Look at it and tell me I'm crazy."

​Amelia pulled the phone away from her ear and opened her messages. A single image loaded on the screen.

​The photo was taken from across a dimly lit dining room. In the background, a man sat at a small table covered with a white tablecloth. His back was partially turned toward the camera, and his face was slightly blurry because of the distance and low lighting. A woman sat across from him, but only the back of her dark hair and the side of her shoulder were visible.

​Amelia stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the glass.

​"See?" Amelia said into the phone, her voice sounding strained despite her best efforts. "You can't even see his face clearly. The light is too dark, and his head is turned away. It could be anyone."

​"Amelia," Natalie said softly. "Look at his left hand."

​Amelia zoomed in on the photo.

​The man was resting his arm on the white tablecloth, his fingers casually wrapped around a glass of water. On his left wrist was a silver watch. Even in the dim restaurant light, the unique blue second hand gleamed clearly against the white dial.

​Amelia's breath caught in her throat.

​It was a custom piece. She had spent weeks searching for it three years ago, personally ordering the blue second hand to be fitted into the custom casing as a gift for their fifth anniversary.

There wasn't another watch like it in the city. And Adrian had been wearing it on his wrist when he left their apartment that morning.

​Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird. The car around her felt suffocatingly small.

​"Amelia?" Natalie asked softly. "Are you still there?"

​Amelia closed her eyes for three long seconds, taking a deep, slow breath to force the panic down. When she opened her eyes, she stared at the photograph again, her mind racing to construct a logical answer.

​There has to be a reason he's still in town right? she thought desperately. There is always a reason.

​"His flight must have been canceled, Natalie." Amelia said aloud, her voice surprisingly steady now. She wasn't just convincing Natalie—she was convincing herself. "The weather in the Midwest was bad this morning. He probably got stuck here, couldn't get a later flight, and had to take an unexpected dinner meeting with a local client instead."

​"Amelia..." Natalie sounded worried. "They were holding hands, he was kissing her cheeks. He even pulled out her chair."

​"Adrian is polite," Amelia said quickly, shutting down the thought before it could take root. "He pulls out chairs for everyone and he greets some of his female clients with a kiss on the cheek. He probably grabbed dinner with an investor's representative or a client to save the day. And he didn't call me because he was busy dealing with the travel mess."

​Natalie let out a long sigh on the other end of the line. "If you say so, Amelia. I just... I saw it, and I couldn't just say nothing to you."

​"I know," Amelia said, forcing a faint smile into her voice. "Thank you for looking out for me, Nat. Really. But don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll call me as soon as his meeting is over to explain what happened with the flight."

​"Okay, babe." Natalie said quietly. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

​"I will. Goodnight, Nat."

​Amelia ended the call and set the phone in the cup holder. She didn't start the car right away. She sat alone in the quiet garage, staring at the dark dashboard.

​The image of the watch remained burned into her mind.

​It's just work, she told herself firmly as she finally turned the key in the ignition. Adrian loves me. We've been together for eight years. He wouldn't lie to me, he wouldn't cheat on me.

​The drive home took twenty minutes. Usually, Amelia enjoyed the quiet drive through the city lights, but tonight every red light felt agonizingly long.

​When she arrived at their luxury apartment building, she parked her car, took the elevator up to the top floor, and walked into their home.

​The penthouse was completely dark and silent.

​She walked through the foyer and turned on the small lamp in the living room. The apartment looked exactly as it had when Adrian left that morning. His empty coffee mug was still sitting on the kitchen counter where he had left it. His extra pair of shoes stood neatly by the coat rack.

​Everything looked normal. Everything looked safe.

​Amelia walked over to the kitchen island, pulled her phone out, and dialed Adrian's number again.

​She held the phone to her ear, listening to the tone.

​One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four rings.

​“This is Adrian Cross. I can't take your call right now. Leave a message.”

​Amelia lowered the phone and stared at the screen.

​If his flight had been canceled and he was at a local business dinner, why hadn't he sent a quick text to let her know? He always sent a message when plans changed. He always checked in.

​She walked into the living room and sat down on the edge of the sofa. She didn't turn on the main lights or TV. She just sat there in the dim glow of the single table lamp, holding her phone tightly in her lap.

​She told herself she was just overthinking, that by tomorrow morning, Adrian would come back or call her from Chicago, laugh about the crazy mix-up, and explain everything.

​She sat in the quiet apartment, watching the clock on the wall tick past eight o'clock, then nine o'clock, waiting for the phone in her hand to ring.