Chapter 2

Amber Lloyd was standing in the entryway wearing silk loungewear and slippers.

When she saw me, she didn't look surprised in the slightest. Instead, she gave me a perfectly composed smile. "Yvette, you're here."

She held up a booklet and asked, "Can you help me decide? Which color do you think would work better in the living room, champagne or slate blue?"

I stood frozen, staring at her silk loungewear. She looked every bit like the lady of the house.

I looked at Jonathan, but he avoided my gaze. "Champagne. It'll make the room brighter."

Over in the corner of the yard wall was a column of height marks my grandfather had carved for me year by year.

"This wall is awful. It even smells like mold," Amber complained, pinching her nose in disgust. "I've already hired a crew to repaint the whole house tomorrow."

She then pointed at the old rattan chair my grandfather had left behind. "And that junk chair goes out with the trash, too."

I stared at the chair, my nails digging into my palms.

Back when Jonathan had become paralyzed, he had been so angry and frustrated that he smashed everything in the house. I was the one who sat him down in that chair and told him again and again that his legs would recover.

Now that he could walk again, the chair was nothing but trash to him.

"Jonathan." I turned to him, my voice hoarse. "Why is she here?"

He stepped closer and reached for my hand, but I pulled away.

He sighed helplessly and lowered his voice. "Yvette, I did buy the place back. But for now, the deed is in Amber's name."

I looked up sharply, staring at him in shock.

"We're legally married, so keeping it in her name as marital property saves us a lot of tax trouble. Once I get back from my match next month, I'll have her transfer the house back to you," Jonathan said, trying to reassure me.

My voice trembled despite my efforts to control it. "This is the only thing I ever wanted back. You're worth tens of millions of dollars now. Are you really worried about paying a little extra in taxes?"

Jonathan frowned, wiping away my tears. "I'm under a lot of pressure, Yvette. Besides, whose name is on the deed isn't that important. You can move in whenever you want. Amber usually stays downtown, so she won't be here often."

Amber leaned against the doorframe and gave a soft laugh. "That's right, Yvette. I'm planning to turn the south-facing bedroom upstairs into Jonathan's trophy room. We'll build a floor-to-ceiling display case just for his championship belts and gloves."

Standing in what had once been my family's yard, I listened to them plan their future together. I felt like a stranger who had only been allowed inside to look around.

On the drive home, Jonathan fastened my seat belt for me and made a detour to buy my favorite roasted chestnuts.

He peeled one and held it to my lips. "Don't be mad. Once I get back from my match, everything will be back to normal. I'll make your favorite baked salmon tonight."

While he was cooking, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

It was a message from a real estate agent. "Mr. Nash, all the closing paperwork for your wife has been finalized."

I unlocked his phone on impulse. His passcode was still my birthday.

I opened the confirmation slip, and the closing was dated September 16, three months ago.

It was Amber's birthday.

Jonathan brought the food to the table, and his phone rang again. It was Amber.

After listening for a moment, he glanced at me awkwardly and grabbed his jacket.

"Amber twisted her wrist. I'm going to check on her. She can't miss tonight's rehab demonstration and interview. Just bring my custom gloves, mouthguard, and the rest of the gear to the studio later."

I sat alone at the table. The person who loved fish wasn't me.

As the smell of fish hit my nose, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I ran to the bathroom and threw up until I could barely breathe.