Chapter 1
When I was eighteen, David told me he loved me, but he was flat broke.
"Carrie, I need you," he said.
That one sentence made me, crazy in love, give up my acceptance letter from Northbridge University just to stand by his side and start a business together.
At thirty, David told me he was rich now, but love had left our lives.
"Carrie, we can't even stand each other anymore. This marriage is just exhausting. I'm done with it," he said.
He stood on stage, accepting the award for Outstanding Entrepreneur, delivering his speech.
When the host asked him what kind of person his partner was, he gave a soft smile and replied, "Kerry is so understanding, gentle, and always knows when to step back."
I knew the person he mentioned wasn't me.
Looking at Kerry, whose bold gaze once resembled my own in youth, I gave a small, distant smile.
David, this time, you were going to lose me for good.
*****
The spotlight burned hot on David's face.
Standing center stage in a tailored suit, he was the picture of success.
Below, business tycoons and reporters filled the room, every gaze locked onto the newly crowned entrepreneur.
I lingered in the shadows at the edge of the stage, watching him put on his show.
As his secret wife, I kept out of the public eye, never appearing at his side.
Even at thirty, he still kept himself looking good—every inch the polished businessman.
His tailored suit showed off his lean frame, and that chiseled face carried just the right, practiced smile.
He handled the host's tricky questions with easy charm, never missing a beat, always flashing a witty comeback.
Back then, when we crammed together in a small apartment, splitting a single bread for dinner, he knew nothing about slick talk like this.
"Mr. Lane, we've all heard you've been keeping your marriage a secret. Can you tell us a little about your partner?" the host asked.
The host cut straight to the chase with the question everyone wanted answered.
The room went quiet.
David's expression stiffened for a split second, his gaze flickering briefly past where I stood before settling somewhere in the audience, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Kerry is so understanding, gentle, and always knows when to step back," he said.
I clenched my fist so hard, my nails bit into my palm.
Kerry. Not me, Carrie.
Bit by bit, my heart turned to ice.
Down in the VIP section, Kerry Martin lowered her head, smiling shyly, her cheeks flushed, looking gentle and demure.
She was David's secretary.
When I looked up, the light hit just right, illuminating Kerry's lively, confident gaze.
It was almost a mirror of the way I used to shine when I was eighteen.
Suddenly, a familiar cramp grabbed my stomach.
All those years chasing the startup dream with David left me with this lingering pain, always flaring up whenever I got emotional.
I remembered those nights, years ago, when the pain was just as sharp. Back then, David would take my cold hands in his, warm them against his chest, and gently rub my aching stomach over and over, never once complaining.
His eyes—so soft and full of feeling—were always brimming with worry and affection for me.
"When we're rich, the first thing I'll do is cure your stomach and spoil you until you're chubby and glowing," he used to promise.
When the company finally made it big, he started showering me with luxury items—bags, jewelry, and so on—but somewhere along the way, he stopped reminding me to eat.
"Mr. Lane, you're really lucky," the host gushed, not picking up on anything strange.
I looked at David, and in that moment, he felt like a stranger, so far away from me now.
The man I'd once poured my entire youth into now stood surrounded by success and admiration. But he was no longer the young man I used to know.
The pain in my stomach grew sharper. I quietly pressed a hand to my abdomen, barely letting anyone notice as cold sweat began to form at the edge of my forehead.
At the party after the awards ceremony, David was the center of attention, with everyone flocking around just to get a moment with him.
I stood off to the side with a glass of champagne, watching him effortlessly charm everyone in the room.
"Carrie, why aren't you over there with him?" Kerry sidled up next to me out of nowhere, the diamond on her ring finger sparkling. "Mr. Lane needs someone by his side."
I glanced at her, cool and detached. "Isn't that your job now?"
Her smile tightened. "Mr. Lane says these events are too boring for you. He knows I love being in the middle of things, so he asked me to come and have some fun."
She swirled her wine glass, tipping her head with a playful, innocent grin. "Honestly, half the time I can't even follow what those old guys are saying, but Dave always takes the time to explain everything for me."
"Dave? Since when did you earn the right to call him that?" My temper flared.
She called him by that nickname—so soft, so familiar—while I couldn't even remember the last time I got to use it.
David used to tell me that 'Dave'—with that warmth and closeness—was only for those who stuck with him through the darkest, messiest days. That kind of name didn't suit the shiny, successful Mr. Lane he'd become.
Funny, it turned out that it was not the nickname that was out of place. It was me who didn't belong anymore.
"Carrie," David called out from behind me. He came over and, almost unconsciously, took his place right at Kerry's side.
He seemed to stand between us, but I could tell his whole posture leaned toward Kerry, as if he was instinctively putting himself between her and everything else—shielding her.
"Congratulations, Mr. Lane," I said, lifting my glass, forcing myself to keep it classy.
He frowned. "Do you really have to talk like that?"
"Then how should I talk?" I smiled, keeping my tone icy. "Should I say I'm proud of you and your Kerry?"
His eyes darkened, shame and anger flickering there now that I'd called him out.
Kerry gently tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft and coaxing. "Dave, don't be like that. Carrie's just in a bad mood. Don't take it to heart."
She talked like she was the real deal here—the one who actually knew how to be understanding and play the bigger person.
The pain in my stomach suddenly spiked. My legs felt wobbly and I could barely stand.
"I don't feel so great. I'm going to head out," I managed, setting my glass down.
David finally noticed how pale I was and instinctively reached out to help me, but Kerry gently held him back by the sleeve.
"Dave, Mr. Ward is waiting for you," Kerry said in a soft voice.
His hand froze in midair for a moment, and then he let it fall and withdrew.