Chapter 2

The warm, happy scene inside made it feel less like I was coming home and more like Mia and I had accidentally walked into someone else’s house.

“Claire...”

Ethan shot to his feet and hurried over, reaching for my bag the moment I stepped through the door.

“Vanessa’s landlord suddenly sold the place and kicked them out.

“They haven’t found anywhere to stay yet, so I was hoping... maybe they could stay here for a while?”

I didn’t answer.

I just stood there and watched the house staff carry our things, one by one, into the storage room.

Vanessa spoke up softly, though the smugness on her face was impossible to miss.

“I’m sorry, Claire, but my health hasn’t been great. I really need a room with good light and fresh air, so Ethan gave me the master bedroom.”

Hugo had taken over Mia’s room too.

Mia’s favorite doll had been tossed outside the door. Its arms and legs were snapped off.

For the first time, Ethan actually looked a bit guilty.

“Claire, if you don’t agree, I can always find them another—”

“I agree.”

I held out my hand to him.

“The rental rate stays the same as before. But if they’re staying in my house, then there’s an occupancy fee. And your companionship surcharge will be billed separately.”

A loud smack cut through the room.

Ethan slammed my handbag to the floor, his face dark as a storm cloud.

“Claire Bennett, have you lost your mind?

“What kind of insane thing are you saying in front of the kids? Have you really lost all sense of decency?”

I almost laughed.

He was the one who had brought another woman and her child into our home, and somehow I was the shameless one for saying it out loud.

Ethan grabbed Vanessa and Hugo and started for the door.

As he passed me, he flung a bank card at my face.

“Eight hundred thousand dollars. Is that enough?

“You’re unbelievable. If money matters that much to you, then go marry your bank account.”

Once the house finally went quiet, Mia sniffled and used a tissue to dab at my face.

That was when I realized the edge of the card had cut the skin near my eye.

“Mommy, it’s all my fault. If I wasn’t sick, Daddy wouldn’t keep making you sad.”

I pulled her into my arms and held her tight.

“I’m not sad,” I whispered. “Once Mia has her surgery, everything’s going to get better. Mommy’s happy.”

My daughter—who had once refused to fall asleep without a bedtime story from her father—cried herself to sleep in my arms.

I looked down at the crease still caught between her little brows, and the pain in my chest felt crushing.

When, exactly, had our happy family of three turned into this?

Was it when Vanessa’s husband died, and Ethan decided she might do something reckless if she was left alone—so he started spending night after night at her place, comforting her?

He did it so often that when paparazzi caught him coming back to his own house, they thought he was sneaking around.

Was it when Ethan decided Hugo would be bullied without a father figure, so he never missed a single parent event at school?

He was always there for birthdays, always there for Children’s Day celebrations.

And because of that, my daughter was branded the other woman’s child and bullied at school.

Or was it the first time Mia collapsed from a cardiac episode?

I called Ethan over and over, but his line was busy every time.

When I finally got to the hospital, I was told nearly every available doctor had been pulled away to treat Hugo’s scraped arm.

Mia’s heart stopped three times.

I dropped to my knees and begged until my forehead was split open before I managed to stop one doctor long enough to save my daughter’s life.

I took a long, shaking breath and started packing.

Then I lifted my sleeping daughter into my arms and walked out of that house—our house, once—with no trace of regret.

A full week passed in our new place, and Ethan didn’t send a single message.

Vanessa, on the other hand, wouldn’t stop.

She kept forwarding entertainment coverage from French tabloids about their outings together, as if she was afraid I might somehow miss it.

I opened them expressionlessly.

Every place they’d gone was somewhere Mia and I had once wanted to visit.

Even the outlet covering them was the same one that had once run glowing coverage of Ethan and me as the couple of the century on our wedding day.

A new message came in from Vanessa:

“Sorry, Claire. I told Ethan he should pay the paparazzi to take the stories down, but he said you’ve got plenty of money.

“This all started because of me. If you want, I can sell the jewelry and designer bags Ethan bought me and use the money to have the coverage removed.”

She’d clearly made sure the photos included the gifts Ethan had given her.

Once, that would have been enough to send me storming to her place to smash and shred everything in sight.

Now, all I did was reply:

"Then I’d appreciate that."

The typing indicator on her end blinked for a long time.

Then nothing.

Just when I thought they might finally give it a rest, my phone buzzed with a deposit alert.

$1.5 million.

And the instant I saw the memo attached to it, every drop of blood in my body seemed to surge backward.