Chapter 2

For eight years, I had given Nancy every ounce of my patience.

I was done waiting.

When Dad's body was wheeled into the morgue, I didn't cry.

I'd already drained every drop of tears I had, right there in the hospital hallway, over five sleepless nights.

The memorial candle flickered, casting an unsteady glow over Dad's memorial portrait.

In his final moments, he had gripped my hand tightly and asked, "When is Nancy coming?"

That question stayed with me like a blunt, rusted knife, sawing back and forth through my chest.

The corridor was dead quiet, like a tomb. My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.

It was a text from an unknown number.

I numbly swiped the screen open and tapped the image.

The moment my eyes landed on it, the blood in my veins turned to ice.

The photo was sharp and painfully clear.

In it, Nancy was holding Sean's arm, a faint blush coloring her cheeks, her gaze soft with a love she made no effort to hide.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the night sky over the river blazed with fireworks, set off in celebration of his birthday.

Beneath the photo, two lines of icy text followed.

"Check the cloud backup account you two used to share. The password is the birthday of her first love, Sean Doyle. You'll find everything you want to know there."

I had no idea who sent it, but my gaze was fixed on Nancy's smile in the photo.

Having just gone through the raw agony of loss and farewell, I had somehow settled into a strange sense of calmness.

Instead of replying to the message, I turned, walked toward the family waiting area outside the morgue, and pulled my laptop out of my bag.

Nancy and I had been together for eight years. She knew every single one of my passwords, and her cloud drive used to be linked to my laptop.

I typed in Sean's birthday.

The password worked, and I was in.

The cloud system had automatically synced everything—her entire chat history, her hidden photo albums, and every purchase record she'd ever made.

My fingers found the search bar. I took a deep breath before typing Sean's name.

The very first search result was her chat history with Lily, her college friend.

They had this conversation roughly two weeks ago.

Lily asked, "So what's the deal with you and Sean? You two went pretty wild in Manta Coast previously. How are you going to handle things with Hugo?"

Nancy replied, "Hugo's a nice guy, but he's way too boring. It's pretty embarrassing to be seen with him. Sean promised to make it official once his project secured Series A funding. I'm just stringing Hugo along now."

My hand froze for a moment. Each breath I took felt like a needle in my chest.

Scrolling down, I found a private group chat Nancy had with her coworkers.

Her colleague had asked, "Nancy, is that devoted backup boyfriend of yours from your hometown still waiting to marry you? When are you going to tell him the truth?"

Nancy replied with an exasperated sticker.

"Soon. I'll make my move once he's paid the down payment on that place downtown and added my name to the deed. I'm not in a rush, but he is."

So all along, her friends and coworkers had known. To them, I was nothing more than the backup boyfriend she could discard whenever she wanted.

The only one in the dark was me, the clown who never saw it coming.

But what truly sent a chill through me was the chat history between her and her own mother, Martha Hopkins.

Martha told her, "Nancy, Sean might have a bright future, but his startup has too much risk. Listen to me. String Hugo along first. He's honest, dependable, and most importantly, he listens to you. That's your best safety net. You can make up your mind when your name is on the deed. A woman always needs a backup plan, right?"

Nancy replied, "I know, Mom. Don't worry. He's foolish enough to believe anything I say. I even got him to tell me his debit card's PIN yesterday."

Backup plan?

Foolish?

I gritted my teeth, my eyes burning and swollen. My fingers were trembling slightly over the keyboard.