Chapter 2

Tamara woke up in an unfamiliar room. A sticky note was stuck to the nightstand.

"See you in two weeks at the pier."

As the haze of alcohol wore off, her memories slowly returned.

The man she'd met last night was none other than Marshall Ripley—the only person who could truly stand toe-to-toe with Braxton, and the only one capable of helping her disappear for good.

When she grabbed her phone, it showed nearly 100 missed calls and messages, all from Braxton.

…

By the time Tamara arrived home, it was already evening.

Braxton immediately ended the video conference he was in and hurried over to her.

"Tamara, where did you go? You never came back last night after you went to get some air. If you'd been gone any longer, I would've turned the whole city upside down trying to find you."

His eyes were bloodshot, suggesting that he hadn't slept at all last night.

The laptop on the table was still on, and the screensaver was a photo of Tamara on their wedding day. The first time Braxton had seen her in that white wedding gown, he'd cried like a little child.

Tamara stared at him for a long time. The love in his eyes was still overwhelming. It just… wasn't exclusively for her anymore.

She looked away and said calmly, "I met a friend, and we ended up talking for a long time. I forgot to tell you."

Braxton visibly relaxed. He took her hand and led her to the dining table, then rolled up his sleeves and began serving her.

"You've been looking a little pale lately. Do you want to go to the hospital to get checked out?"

Tamara's hand, in the middle of scooping up food, froze midair.

She always told him in advance when she went out, and that day, when she'd gone to the hospital, it had been no different. But he'd been so preoccupied with Annalise that he didn't remember it at all.

"The weather's too hot, so I don't have much of an appetite," she answered simply.

Braxton immediately turned toward the kitchen. "Edna, make lighter dishes from now on. And go buy some of Tamara's favorite fruits and make some refreshing desserts—a different one every day."

Edna Thatcher, their maid, agreed at once, but didn't head back to the kitchen right away. Following her gaze, Tamara noticed a lunch box placed on the cabinet by the door.

Soon, her plate was piled high with peeled shrimp and other dishes.

Braxton stood and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Babe, take your time eating. There's an emergency meeting at the office, so I need to run."

He hurriedly washed his hands, and as he left, he didn't forget to take the lunch box with him.

Tamara got up and glanced at the contents of the pot on the stove. It was peanut stew.

The light in her eyes dimmed bit by bit.

She had once gone into anaphylactic shock from peanuts. After that incident, Braxton had forbidden anything peanut-related from entering the house ever again. Even a maid with a few stray peanut shells stuck to her sleeve had been fired on the spot.

Yet the peanuts that were practically poison to her were Annalise's favorite.

Tamara turned and went upstairs, then opened the surveillance app on her phone.

After she'd discovered that Braxton and Annalise were still in contact with each other, Braxton had voluntarily installed a camera in his office to put her at ease.

"This way, you won't jump to the wrong conclusions again, Tamara," he had said.

But at the moment, the feed streaming to her phone was pitch black. As expected, Braxton would never let himself slip up in front of her.

However, just moments later, the image came back, and Annalise's voice drifted through.

"I'm your legal wife, you know—and yet we're sneaking around like this."

Braxton blew on the stew to cool it, then fed her a spoonful.

"Don't be greedy, you little rascal. I risk losing Tamara just by giving you that status."

Annalise pouted and threw herself into his arms.

"I know. But that's what makes this exciting, you know?"

Her eyes flicked straight toward the surveillance camera, her gaze full of provocation. Her tone, however, remained soft and sweet.

"As long as I have you, that's enough."

After a long silence, Braxton kissed the top of her head and said, "Timing really matters. If I'd met you first, maybe I wouldn't have chosen Tamara."

In that instant, it felt as though every ounce of strength had drained from Tamara's body.

She remembered her seventh birthday party. Her mother had pointed at the circle of boys downstairs and asked gently, "Tamara, which one do you like? Choose one, and he'll go to school with you from now on, okay?"

Tamara had thought for a long time before pointing at a boy standing in the corner. "He looks really lonely. I'll keep him company from now on."

"So… Braxton Merrick, it wasn't you who chose me. I was the one who chose you. But now… I regret it," she mused to herself.

Tamara looked up at the massive wedding portrait on the wall and hurled her phone at it.

The glass shattered on impact.