Chapter 2

The next morning, Mark didn' t go to the office at his usual time. He was in the kitchen, making pancakes, something he hadn' t done since Leo was a toddler. The smell of burnt batter filled the air.

"I was thinking," he said, flipping a lopsided pancake onto a plate. "Remember how you always wanted to go to Disneyland? The real one, in California. We never got around to it."

I stared at him from the doorway. The suggestion was so absurd, so out of place with the wreckage of our life, that I almost laughed. "That was years ago, Mark."

"It's not too late. I can clear my schedule. We can take Leo. It'll be fun," he insisted, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

The effort was pathetic. He was dangling a decade-old dream in front of me as if it could patch the gaping hole he' d torn in our marriage. The pain inside me was a dull, constant throb, a numbness that had settled deep in my bones. I didn't have the energy to fight, to scream.

"Maybe," I said, my voice empty.

Later that week, he insisted we attend a charity gala his company was sponsoring. He said it was important for us to be seen together, to present a united front. I knew it was just more posturing, another act in his elaborate play.

We were standing near the silent auction tables when she appeared. Chloe. She was wearing a stunning red dress that clung to her body, her hand resting protectively on her slightly rounded stomach. She walked straight to Mark, a brilliant smile on her face, completely ignoring my presence.

"Mark, darling, I was feeling a little faint. The doctor said I need to be careful." Her voice was sweet, laced with a vulnerability that was purely for his benefit.

Mark' s entire focus shifted to her. The concerned husband mask he wore for me was replaced by a look of genuine worry for her. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down? Should I get you some water?"

He guided her to a nearby chair, his hand lingering on the small of her back. I watched them, a spectator at my own public humiliation. He leaned in, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh. It was an intimate, private moment shared in a room full of people.

My heart, which I thought couldn't break any further, fractured again. It was one thing to see the evidence on a screen, another to witness his affection for her in person. It wasn' t just sex. He cared for her.

I needed air. I turned and walked away, heading for the terrace. I didn't want to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I stood in the cool night air, gripping the stone balustrade, my knuckles white.

I heard his footsteps behind me. "Olivia? What' s wrong?"

I didn't turn around. I couldn't look at him.

He came to stand beside me, close but not touching. "Are you upset about Chloe? She' s just my assistant, and she' s not feeling well. I have to look out for her."

The lie was so blatant, so insulting. I stayed silent.

His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, thinking I wasn't looking. I saw the screen light up with a message from her.

"Is the old hag mad? Don' t worry about her. Come back to me. The baby and I need you."

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I thought I was going to be sick. My chest felt tight, like a band was squeezing the air from my lungs. The acid taste of betrayal filled my mouth.

He quickly typed a reply, his thumbs flying across the screen. "Just a minute. Make sure you drink some water. I'll be right there."

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and turned to me, his face a perfect picture of marital concern. "Everything okay?"

I finally looked at him. I kept my face blank, a mask of calm I didn't feel. The woman he loved, the woman carrying his child, was inside, calling him back to her side. And he was standing here, asking me if I was okay.

The sheer audacity of it was breathtaking.

"I'm fine," I said, my voice as cold and hard as the stone beneath my hands. "Just enjoying the view."

He seemed relieved, satisfied with my answer. "Good. I should probably check on things inside."

He left me there on the terrace, alone in the dark, and went back to her. I watched him go, every step he took away from me a confirmation of what I already knew. The love was gone. The respect was gone. All that remained was this hollow performance, and I was done playing my part.