Chapter 1

Presley Quinn came home with his suit jacket slung over one arm and a shopping bag in his hand.

I recognized it right away. It was from that luxury brand, the same one as the necklace Vivienne Ashford had posted on her Instagram.

He walked in, saw that I was awake, and barely looked up.

"Oh, you're home."

Then, he seemed to remember something. He quickly crumpled the bag and shoved it into the trash, as if he were terrified I would catch a glimpse of it.

He slipped off his jacket and loosened his tie, his tone as casual as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

"Our department had a dinner tonight. One of the interns got a full-time offer, so we stayed a little late to celebrate."

He walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open.

Inside was a box of cherries, which a friend had brought over a few days ago. I hadn't been able to bring myself to eat them yet.

Presley reached in, pulled them out, checked the price tag, and then turned back to look at me.

"We didn't split the bill on this, did we?"

I shook my head. "No, a friend gave them to me."

"Then, it doesn't count as a household expense," he said, pulling out his phone and clicking on his budgeting app. "You're covering that one yourself."

I watched his fingers move across the screen, and my mind drifted back to that night two months ago.

My mom's kidneys had failed. The doctors said the deposit for surgery had to be paid right away. I'd borrowed from everyone I could think of, maxed out my credit card, and was still 48,000 dollars short.

It was 1:00 AM. I was crouched on a hospital stairwell, calling Presley, sobbing until my voice had gone completely hoarse.

"Presley, please, just lend it to me. My mom doesn't have much time. I'll pay you back, I swear," I'd told him.

The line went quiet for a few seconds before he spoke, "Your mom's situation is basically a bottomless pit at this point. I'll send you some links to a few legit lending platforms. Figure it out from there."

With that, he hung up.

Three loan app links showed up in my messages a second later.

I convinced myself he was just being rational, that he didn't want emotions getting in the way. But I later found out that during that same month, he'd signed Vivienne Ashford up for a high-end corporate training seminar.

The tuition was 3,600 dollars.

A coworker had asked him if spending that much on a mere intern was really worth it. He'd replied, "We shouldn't stand in the way of a youngster's future."

Just thinking about it made my stomach turn.

It was never that he didn't know how to spend money. He just didn't want to spend it on me.

Presley finished logging the entry and glanced up. "Why do you look so pale?"

I didn't answer his question. Instead, I asked, "Did you have fun at the dinner?"

"It was fine," he said, turning to grab his pajamas. "The girl just got officially hired, so she got a little emotional. The team stayed out a bit longer to keep her company."

As he spoke, he started heading toward the bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, the phone resting on the coffee table began to ring, and the contact name was right there on the screen.

It was Vivienne.

I looked at it and didn't move.

It rang twice before the bathroom door opened again. Presley came out with his hair still dripping, walked over fast, and picked it up.

His voice sounded nothing like the businesslike, matter-of-fact tone he used with me.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Didn't I tell you to cut back on cold stuff? If your stomach's acting up, stay away from iced drinks. Do you like the necklace? I know you've been talking about it forever."

Whatever she said made him chuckle.

"I'm glad you like it. Don't read into it. It's just a congratulatory gift for getting the job. Get some sleep. Don't be late tomorrow," he reminded her.

Only after he hung up did he finally look up, his eyes meeting mine.

His expression flickered for just a second before going back to normal. "What are you staring at?"

I looked at him, and my voice came out a little hoarse. "Presley, I had a miscarriage today."

He went still for a moment. Then, his brows pulled together. "You didn't think to tell me something this serious beforehand?"

I didn't respond.

He kept going, his tone reproachful. "Do you realize this completely throws off our financial planning? A miscarriage out of nowhere means everything we'd budgeted for is gone, and now there'll be additional medical and recovery costs on top of that."

He paused, looking as if he were crunching the numbers in his head.

"Natalie, you could've at least given me a heads-up."

I sat there on the bed and looked at this man I'd spent five years married to, and I felt nothing.

I used to tell myself that if I held on a little longer, if I gave him just a little more grace, he'd eventually turn around and see me.

But now, I knew he would never.

I looked down and picked up my phone, pulling up the out-of-town job relocation offer that had been sitting in my email for three days.

I hadn't replied because I couldn't let go of this marriage and because I still had a sliver of self-respect I wasn't ready to throw away.

Now, without a single moment of hesitation, I hit the accept button.

The moment it went through, I heard Presley ask, "What are you doing over there?"

I looked up at him.

"Nothing," I said, my voice calm.