Chapter 2

Winston was holding Celia's phone, the screen showing a message that said the deactivation had gone through. Panic was written all over his face.

"What did you deactivate, Cece?"

Since Celia was applying for a death certificate, she had to deactivate her personal records.

She maintained a blank expression. As Winston leaned in, she spotted the hickeys hidden under his collar. The blotchy red made her eyes sting.

She looked up, met his anxious gaze, and let out a quiet laugh. "It's nothing. I just deactivated a game account. The game strains my eyes, so I quit."

"A game account?"

Winston breathed a sigh of relief. Setting the phone aside, he pulled Celia into his arms as if he'd almost lost her.

"Didn't you say you wanted to go shopping the other day, Cece? I'll go with you."

Celia wasn't in the mood, but Winston had already arranged everything. She couldn't say no.

Was it guilt? Was he trying to make up for something?

She smiled wryly to herself and let it go. After all, she was leaving soon. She didn't want to stir anything up or tip him off.

Winston fussed over her the whole way. The summer heat was brutal. Disregarding his status as CEO of Lowe Group, he held an umbrella over Celia. The sight turned heads, sparking envy among the onlookers.

"Whoa, isn't that Mr. Lowe and Ms. Weller? God, he really dotes on her."

"Totally. Everyone in Belcaster knows their story. Mr. Lowe spoils his wife rotten. She likes cherries, so he planted cherry trees at home. When am I ever going to meet a man like that?"

"Yeah. Mr. Lowe went all out to win Ms. Weller. Of course he spoils her now."

Celia heard the whispers and managed a rueful smile as she and Winston stepped into a luxury boutique.

The sales associate's face lit up. "Ma'am, take a look at this gown. It's one of our classics. I think it would look stunning on you."

Winston told Celia to forget the price tags and pick whatever she wanted.

Celia pressed her lips together, then opened them, about to speak.

Just then, a bright, chirpy voice piped up behind her. "Those classics are from like ten years ago. They're pretty dated."

Sophie glided over with a smile, her makeup flawless. She picked up a new summer release, the look on her face saying plenty. "New releases look better, fresher, and younger. What do you think, Ms. Weller?"

She wore a sweet smile, but the look in her eyes showed that she was itching for a fight.

Celia clocked her. She was the one who'd been with Winston last night. She couldn't even wait a day, huh?

Winston's face hardened, and he shot Sophie a warning look.

Sophie deliberately looked away. Celia was an easy target. A little shove wouldn't matter. Winston spoiled her anyway. She could sweet-talk him later.

She took on an apologetic tone. "Oh, I forgot you're 26, Ms. Weller. This kind of dress isn't really for you. You can't pull it off. Sorry."

A small, triumphant smile tugged at her mouth.

Celia smiled and flipped the price tag.

"It's fresher and younger, sure. But only someone who treats cheap things like a trophy would love it. No, scratch that. Only someone cheap reaches for cheap things. New releases come and go every season. They're a dime a dozen. The classics hold up."

Cheap? A dime a dozen?

Sophie went pale. Even her perfect makeup couldn't hide the embarrassment on her face. She looked at Winston, her eyes shining with tears. Normally, he would murmur something to soothe her.

Yet this time, he pulled Celia close. "You're right, sweetheart. The classics look better. The new releases feel cheap."

Sophie bit her lip, her eyes reddening. "Fine. I'm the cheap one. How could I ever measure up to Ms. Weller? She's clearly the one Mr. Lowe spoils, not me. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

She turned and left dejectedly.

Something in what she said snagged at Winston. He started after her on instinct, then remembered Celia, and stopped. He frowned, watching Sophie's small, despondent back as she walked away.

Celia caught his reaction and let out a quiet laugh. She nudged past him and stopped in front of a gown on display.

"I'll take this one. The priciest one you've got."

That snapped Winston out of his thoughts. He handed his card to the sales associate and said, "Charge this, and bag everything my wife was eyeing a minute ago."

The sales associate brightened. "Mr. Lowe, you sure know how to spoil Ms. Weller."

Winston smiled. "She's my wife. Who else would I spoil?"

Celia gave a small, mocking smile and let it slide without a word.

…

By the time they stepped out of the boutique, Celia's interest had long since faded. She pursed her lips.

Winston noticed. He guided her to a bench and went to get her some juice. That was how things used to be—one small gesture, and he knew exactly what she wanted. Now he probably did the same for Sophie.

He popped the seal with a straw and held the cup to Celia's mouth. "Try it. Does it taste the way it used to?"

Her eyes gave nothing away as she took a small sip.

The flavor hadn't changed. But Winston had.

Just then, Celia's phone buzzed in her bag. It was a message from an unknown number.

"Ms. Weller, how did it feel seeing me with Win last night? Kind of stings, doesn't it? Here's the thing. When he wasn't home, he was with me, day and night. He's really into me. We went through a whole box of condoms every time."

Celia read it without a flicker of emotion. Her eyes went cold.

"Do you want to make a bet? Win's about to ditch you and come to me."

Celia didn't buy it. Winston might be cheating, but he knew what mattered. He wasn't about to ditch her over a few words from Sophie.

But a moment later, he proved her wrong.

She watched him type a message with his head down, a faint smile playing on his lips. Then he slid the phone away and kept his tone strictly business as he said, "Something came up with a project at work, Cece. I'll have the driver take you home in a bit, okay?"

Celia looked down at her screen, which showed the flirty messages between Winston and Sophie, and smiled wryly. So that "something" was him getting into Sophie's bed.

She swallowed the metallic tang in her mouth and let him go. "Alright. Go ahead."

The way she stayed calm, without holding onto him like she used to, threw Winston for a beat. Something in his chest felt hollow.

His phone kept buzzing with messages, reeling his thoughts back in. He brushed it off, told himself Celia was just being sensible, and left.

As soon as he turned away, Celia dropped the juice he'd bought straight into the trash. Her eyes remained cold.

A moment later, Sophie sent her a sultry photo. "The one who isn't loved ends up the side piece, Ms. Weller. See how Win can't keep his hands off me?"

Celia replied, "Wonderful. Trash meets trash. Sounds like a perfect match."

Sophie remained quiet for a long time, too angry to text back.

…

Celia went home and packed a few more things. She pulled her design textbooks and some sketches from the cabinet and slid them into her suitcase.

Those were her treasures. If she hadn't married Winston, she might've had a different life. A bitter taste rose in her throat.

Even so, she told herself it wasn't too late to turn back.

Celia packed a little every day. Anyone paying attention would've seen the signs, but Winston didn't. When she finished, she walked to the wall calendar and marked an X on the 25th.

28 days left until she and Winston were done.

A sound came from the doorway—Winston was back. He pushed the bedroom door open and saw Celia by the wall calendar. The red Xs glared back at him.

He came closer, his voice tight. "What are you doing with that, Cece?"