Chapter 2

The ride home was silent. Knox drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the center console, inches from my own. The city lights blurred past the window, a smear of color in the darkness. He thought he had soothed the nervous pet. He thought everything was back under control.

"About Jase's birthday tomorrow," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "It' s that time of year again. The board retreat is at the lake house. You know how Dad gets. He wants it to be a private, family-only affair for the core team."

He' d used the same excuse, the same measured tone, for the past four years. Every year, on this exact date, he would go to a "business retreat" and I would be told to stay home. I used to think it was Douglas' s way of punishing Knox, of reminding him of his "duty" to me by separating us on a day that held significance for their real family. Now I knew the truth. It wasn't a punishment. It was a celebration.

"Of course," I said, my voice soft and compliant. "I understand. You should go. Don't worry about me."

I watched his shoulders relax. The tension bled out of him. He was relieved. He reached over and placed his hand on my knee, his thumb stroking my skin. "Thanks for being so understanding, Addie. You're the best."

I flinched. It was a small, involuntary movement, but he noticed.

"You okay?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Just tired," I said quickly, forcing a yawn. "It was a long night." I placed my hand over his, a gesture that had once been comforting, but now felt like touching a snake. "I'll be fine. I'll probably just sleep in and catch up on some reading."

He seemed to accept it. He turned his attention back to the road. I dug my fingernails into the palm of my other hand, the sharp pain a welcome anchor in the swirling vortex of my emotions. It kept me focused. It kept the tears at bay.

When we got back to our penthouse, a gilded cage overlooking the city, he suggested a nightcap.

"I need to take a shower first," I said, pulling away before he could kiss me. "I feel sticky from the party."

He nodded, already loosening his tie. "I'll wait for you in the study."

The moment I was in our bedroom, the door shut, I leaned against it, my composure crumbling. I took deep, shuddering breaths. Then, I walked to the bathroom, turned on the shower to create noise, and slipped back out. I went straight to his study.

For five years, I had respected his privacy. I never once entered his study without an invitation. I trusted him completely. The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.

I sat in his large leather chair. It still held his warmth. The screen of his laptop was dark. I pressed the power button.

The screen lit up.

My breath stopped.

The wallpaper was a family portrait. Not our family. Theirs.

Knox stood with his arm around Gemma. In front of them, a little boy with bright, laughing eyes held Knox' s hand.

Jase.

It was a perfect family. A happy family.

My body trembled so hard the desk shook.

I moved the mouse. The password screen appeared.

A password. He was so careful.

But I knew him. Or I knew the man he pretended to be. He was sentimental about the wrong things.

I typed in a date. 0-8-1-5.

Jase's birthday.

The computer unlocked.

A folder on the desktop was labeled "Family." My hand shaking, I clicked it open.

It was a nightmare. Hundreds of photos. Jase' s first steps. Jase blowing out birthday candles, year after year. Knox teaching Jase how to ride a bike. Gemma and Knox kissing under a Christmas tree, Jase asleep in Knox' s arms. Vacations I was never invited on. Holidays I spent alone, believing he was working.

And in so many of the photos, another smiling face. Douglas Steele. He was holding Jase, his face alight with a grandfatherly love I had never seen him display. He looked proud. He looked happy.

I remembered asking Douglas once, timidly, if I could have a photo of his late wife, Knox's mother, for our living room. He had looked at me with cold, dismissive eyes. "We don't dwell on the past, Adelaide," he'd said. But here he was, creating a new past, a new family, built on the ashes of my life.

The phrase Knox had used echoed in my mind. "Family-only affair."

I was never family. I was a placeholder. A bandage on a wound they never intended to let heal. I was the cover story.

My phone buzzed on the desk beside me. A text from an unknown number.

He's mine, you know. He always has been. Enjoy your big, empty bed tonight.

Gemma.

She was taunting me. She wanted me to know. She wanted me to suffer.

The study door opened. Knox stood there, a drink in his hand, a questioning look on his face.

"Addie? I thought you were taking a shower."

My heart leaped into my throat. I quickly slammed the laptop shut.

"The water was taking a while to heat up," I improvised, my voice shaking slightly. "I just came to get a book."

He walked further into the room, his eyes scanning the desk. "I'm heading out early tomorrow," he said, his voice casual, but his gaze was sharp. "Probably before you're even awake. The helicopter is picking me and Dad up at the downtown office."

It was another lie. He wasn't going to the office. He was going to Gemma. To their son.

"Don't work too hard," I said, my voice a hollow echo of the loving wife I used to be.

He was going to celebrate his son's birthday. With his real family. And I was just the fool left behind to keep the house warm.