Chapter 4

Haylie Camacho POV:

I stood frozen in the entryway, my own home rendered alien and hostile. The scent was the first thing that hit me-not my familiar lavender and vanilla, but a cloying, heavy floral perfume. Joselin' s signature scent. It was everywhere, clinging to the air like a disease. My photos were gone from the console table, replaced by a large, framed picture of her and Jeremy on a tropical beach, smiling, intertwined, radiant.

My gaze drifted down the hall, to the closed door of what had been our master bedroom. A cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach.

"I' m going to my room," I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. I started walking toward it.

"Wait!" Joselin yelped, darting in front of me to block the door. "You can' t go in there!"

"Why not?" I asked, my eyes locking with hers.

"It' s... it' s a mess!" she stammered, her eyes wide with fake panic. "We haven' t had a chance to clean it since you... well, we' ve been using it for storage."

Storage.

With a strength I didn' t know I possessed, I shoved her aside and pushed the door open.

The room was not used for storage. It was their room now. His and hers. A lacy black nightgown was draped over the armchair where I used to read. A bottle of men' s cologne-Jeremy' s-sat next to a jar of Joselin' s expensive face cream on the dresser. But it was the bed that made me want to vomit. The sheets were a rumpled mess, and lying discarded on the floor next to it was a used condom wrapper.

Joselin rushed in behind me, feigning embarrassment. "Oh my god, I am so sorry! I told the maid to clean up in here!"

I didn' t look at her. I turned my head slowly and looked at Jeremy, who was standing in the doorway, his face the color of ash. He couldn't meet my eyes. He just stared at the floor, a statue of guilt and shame.

"So," I said, the word coming out as a brittle shard of ice. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"The guest room!" Jeremy finally choked out, his voice cracking. "We... we kept the guest room just for you. It' s all ready."

I didn' t say another word. I turned and walked past them, down the hall to the small room at the end. The guest room. A place for visitors. In my own home.

Jeremy scurried after me, a frantic, pathetic butler. "See? Fresh sheets. Clean towels. Do you need anything? Water? Are you tired? You should rest." He fluffed a pillow, his movements jerky and desperate.

He gently pushed me toward the bed. "Just rest, Haylie. I' ll... I' ll have Joselin clear out our... the other room." He practically spat the words, then turned and stalked out, his voice a low hiss as he passed Joselin in the hall. "Get your things out of there. Now."

I lay down on the unfamiliar bed, the door still ajar. I could hear them in the master bedroom next door. The sounds of drawers opening and closing, the rustle of clothes.

Then, I heard Joselin' s voice, a seductive whisper. "Jeremy, where am I supposed to put this nightgown? The one you like so much?"

A pause. Then Jeremy' s voice, low and strained. "Just... put it in a bag for now."

"But what if I want to wear it tonight?" she purred.

A muffled sound, like a gasp. Then another, a low moan that was unmistakably Jeremy' s.

My blood ran cold. They were in there, just a thin wall away from me, and they were...

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms against my ears, but I couldn' t block out the soft, rhythmic creaking of the bed that started up. The sounds of their betrayal were a physical torture, echoing in the room where I was supposed to be resting, to be healing.

I clenched the bedspread in my fists, my knuckles white. My nails dug into my palms, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the agony in my chest. I couldn' t stay here. I couldn' t breathe this air.

I threw the covers off and stood up, my body trembling with a fresh wave of rage. I stalked to their door and pounded on it with my fist.

"Be quiet!" I screamed, my voice raw.

The creaking stopped. There was a frantic scrambling sound, and then something hit the inside of the door with a soft thud before it was thrown open. A small, lacy piece of underwear landed at my feet.

My eyes lifted from the offensive scrap of fabric to Jeremy, standing in the doorway, shirtless, his hair a mess, his face a mixture of panic and arousal.

"Haylie, it' s not what you think," he stammered, his chest heaving.

I didn' t even look at him. A sudden, urgent thought had seized me. There was something I needed. Something more precious than this house, than this marriage.

"Take me to the old house," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Your father' s estate. Now."

Jeremy blinked, confused. "What? Haylie, it' s late. You need to rest."

"Now, Jeremy," I repeated, my gaze unwavering.

He must have seen something in my eyes, because he finally nodded, a look of profound weariness settling on his features. "Okay. Okay, Haylie. Whatever you want."

As we drove through the dark, winding roads leading to the Glass family mansion, I clutched my hands in my lap. I had left one thing there for safekeeping, one thing I couldn' t bear to part with but was too afraid to keep in our home.

My mother' s locket.

When we arrived, I didn' t wait for him. I walked straight to the grand, mahogany-paneled library. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" he asked, following me in.

"My mother' s locket. I gave it to you to put in the safe before my surgery."

Jeremy' s face went pale. A flicker of sheer terror crossed his face as his eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an answer. I watched him, a cold certainty dawning. He didn' t know where it was.

His eyes landed on Joselin, who had followed us in, and I saw a silent, panicked communication pass between them.

He remembered something. She had asked about it. She' d said it was pretty. He' d let her... hold it.

He' d given it to her.