Chapter 3

I started packing. Not with the frantic energy of escape, but with a cold, methodical precision. I threw clothes into a suitcase, my movements jerky and mechanical. Each item-a dress he bought me, a sweater I wore on our first trip-was a ghost of a life that had never been real.

Jaydan followed me into the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe, a look of lazy amusement on his face.

"What are you doing, Ainsley?"

"Cleaning," I said, my voice flat. "Getting rid of things I don't need anymore."

"Is this still about the apology?" he sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Darling, it's our anniversary tomorrow. Let's not fight."

Our anniversary. The day our contract expired. The irony was so bitter it almost made me laugh.

"You're right," I said, forcing a smile that felt like broken glass. "We shouldn't fight."

He walked toward me, his confidence restored. He thought he had me, that I was just having a momentary tantrum he could soothe away. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"That's my girl," he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.

I stood rigid, my skin crawling at his touch. I wanted to scream, to claw at him, to rage at the decade of lies. But I held it in. I needed to be smart. I needed to get Cody and get out.

"I'm tired," I said, gently pushing him away. "I just want to sleep."

He looked disappointed but let me go. "Alright. But tomorrow, we celebrate. Just the two of us."

That night, I lay in our bed, a chasm of icy silence between us. He slept soundly, one arm thrown possessively over my waist. I stared at the ceiling, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I noticed for the first time that he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. He must have taken it off after the contract expired. My own ring felt like a brand on my finger. I didn't sleep a wink.

The next morning, he was up before the sun, whistling as he chose a suit. He moved around the room with a quiet stealth, clearly thinking I was still asleep, not wanting to wake me. He was going to meet her. The thought was a cold certainty.

He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Happy anniversary, my love," he whispered to my still form, before quietly letting himself out.

The moment the front door clicked shut, I was out of bed. I grabbed my phone. My hands were shaking as I opened my social media app. I didn't have to wait long.

Ariana Shepherd had just posted a new photo.

It was a picture of a breakfast table, laden with champagne and strawberries. In the background, a man's back was visible, looking out a window at the sunrise. He was wearing the same custom-tailored Tom Ford suit Jaydan had just put on.

The caption was sickeningly sweet: Some mornings are just more perfect than others. Here's to new beginnings!

The comments were already flooding in. Our mutual friends, the city's elite, were all gushing. "OMG, so happy for you two!" "Finally!" "Congratulations, Ariana! You deserve all the happiness!"

They all knew. I was the only one who had been living in the dark. The fool.

My fingers flew across the screen. I commented on her post, a single, simple sentence.

That's a lovely suit. Jaydan has one just like it.

I watched the screen, my heart pounding. A few seconds later, the post vanished. She had deleted it.

My phone rang almost immediately. It was Jaydan. I let it ring. Then a call from an unknown number. I answered.

It was Ariana, her voice thick with fake tears. "Ainsley, I am so, so sorry. You've misunderstood. Jaydan and I were just... we were at a breakfast meeting with a client."

"A client?" I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

"Yes! And I posted that without thinking. I'm so sorry if it upset you. Please, don't be mad at Jaydan." She was sobbing now, a masterclass in manipulation.

Then Jaydan's voice came on the line, sharp and angry. "Ainsley, what the hell is your problem? Ariana is a mess because of you." He then softened his tone, the practiced liar. "Look, honey, it was a mistake. We were picking out your anniversary gift together. I wanted to surprise you. Please, don't ruin our night. I've booked our favorite restaurant. Eight o'clock."

He was with her, comforting her, while lying to me.

"A gift?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "What kind of gift?"

"It's a surprise," he said, a hint of relief in his voice. He thought his lie had worked. "I'll see you at eight. I love you."

He hung up.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, the phone slipping from my numb fingers. He was so good at it. The casual, easy lies. He' d had ten years of practice.

I put on the dress he liked, did my makeup, and stared at the woman in the mirror. She looked calm, poised, ready for a romantic dinner. But inside, she was a stranger, a woman hollowed out by betrayal, fueled by a cold, burning rage.

I was going to that dinner. I was going to see just how far he would go. I was going to watch his whole pathetic performance, and then, I was going to end it.