Chapter 2

A distinctive notification tone cut me off mid-sentence.

Caleb's phone lit up. The message was from a contact saved as "Wifey."

[Caleb, are we really married now? I'm so excited I haven't slept all night. How am I supposed to work today?!]

I knew it was Yara.

After seeing her social media post, I'd watched both of them change their profile pictures to matching couple photos.

Meanwhile, Caleb had always insisted on keeping things "professional" with me. In his phone, I was nothing more than the cold, impersonal "Yvette Lane."

He'd apparently forgotten I was standing there, because he immediately typed back.

[Then come to the office now. You can sleep in my office so you don't oversleep, sleepyhead.]

So that was why he'd still been awake when I came home. He hadn't stayed up waiting for me. He'd been too excited about marrying Yara to sleep.

Caleb finally noticed where I was looking and calmly turned off his screen.

"It's her first time getting married. She's so nervous and excited she can't sleep. I'm only trying to make sure it doesn't affect her work. And the contact name is just for her parents' benefit. I'll change it back later."

A year ago, he'd still looked nervous whenever he had to explain himself. Now he could lie to my face without even blinking.

Maybe I should have congratulated him on how adaptable he'd become.

I still remembered the first time Yara Cole's name had ever come out of his mouth.

Back then, she was just the careless delivery girl who'd scraped his car and made him late for a business dinner.

For days afterward, Caleb complained to me about her. He couldn't understand how anyone could be so clueless, chasing him around for more than two weeks over the three-thousand-dollar repair bill and insisting on running errands for him until she'd worked off what she owed.

I'd even been stupid enough to tell him not to give her such a hard time.

Then Caleb, a man who supposedly never bent his principles, suddenly made an exception and hired her. He told me she was hardworking and ambitious, and he didn't want to see her potential go to waste.

I'd thought it was a rare act of kindness.

I hadn't realized it was the beginning of a nightmare.

I should have understood sooner. Whether he was complaining about her or praising her, the fact remained that Yara had already taken up his attention.

Now they were legally married.

So what did that make me?

I lowered my eyes with a bitter smile and turned to take my mother's ashes to the bedroom.

Caleb stepped in front of me and flicked disdainfully at my hair.

"Yvette, you're sleeping on the couch tonight. Look at you. You're filthy. Anyone who saw you would think I'd dragged some homeless woman in off the street."

Not once did he ask what I was holding.

All he saw was the dirt and dust covering me.

I clutched the urn tighter and bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let the tears come.

He was the reason for every bit of this.

If Caleb hadn't thrown my mother and me out of the car, I never would have dropped to my knees in the middle of the road, begging passing drivers to help us until my forehead split open and bled. I wouldn't have crawled forward on my knees in desperation until the fabric of my pants wore through in two ragged holes.

As soon as he finished speaking, Caleb glanced at his fingertips and saw the dried blood he'd picked up from my hair.

Something seemed to register.

His lips parted, and guilt flickered briefly across his face.

"Forget it. Go sleep in the bedroom."

Then, as though that somehow made everything right, he added, "Don't worry. Once I talk some sense into Yara's stubborn parents and get them to stop interfering with her career, I'll divorce her, and we'll have our wedding. Your mom will be thrilled."

For a moment, I was back at the hospital, feeling my mother's fingers clutch mine with the last of her strength.

"Yvette, don't ever get on your knees for anyone. After I'm gone, take care of yourself."

So this time, I shook my head.

"No. I don't need that anymore."

Caleb stared at me.

The same promise that had worked on me every other time had failed twice in one night, and he clearly couldn't understand why.

He couldn't be bothered to think about it for long.

"Yvette, stop making problems where there aren't any. I'm not the one in a rush to get married anyway. I'm going to work."

He changed into a suit and headed for the door. Just before leaving, he paused.

"I'll drive carefully..."

The old me would have immediately fussed over him, warning him again and again to be careful and telling him to get some rest. He'd clearly spoken first to cut me off before I could start.

But I was exhausted in every possible way.

"Do whatever you want."

Caleb froze.

For some reason, his expression darkened. He slammed the door behind him hard enough to make my ears ring.

After showering, I cleaned up the guest room, curled around my mother's urn, and finally fell asleep.

Two hours later, my alarm went off.

I forced myself awake, washed up, and went straight to the office to resign. I wanted it done as quickly as possible.

The company had gone public the year before. Blinded by love and determined to protect Caleb's position as CEO, I'd transferred every share I owned to him.

I had nothing left.

I assumed that would at least make resigning simple.

Instead, the HR lady looked at me uneasily.

"Yvette, it's not that I don't want to help you. Mr. Foster gave me specific instructions. If you ever tried to resign, he has to personally sign off on it first."