Chapter 1

"Ms. Lane, Mr. Carter's schedule is packed today. He asked you to sign the papers and leave," the secretary said.

The words pricked a numb, raw spot inside her, sharp as a fine needle. Only three days ago, she'd still been Mrs. Carter. But the second she signed this agreement, she'd no longer hold that married title.

The divorce agreement was spread out on the table, the black printed words so densely packed it felt like an impenetrable wall. On the last page, there was a blank signature line, and next to it was a check with an enormous sum written out.

Charlotte Lane stared at the check and suddenly laughed.

She remembered the day she married into the Carter family three years ago.

Vivian Shaw had sized her up in front of everyone, her lips curled in that always-perfect smile. "Ethan, you picked a good wife. She seems quiet and well-behaved."

The words sounded nice, but the tone told a different story. It meant her family background was nothing special, not good enough for them, but at least she was docile.

Back then, Charlotte stood in the middle of the living room, wearing a new light pink dress, holding a bouquet she'd arranged herself, smiling with grace.

She thought if she was sensible enough, considerate enough, and worked hard enough, she could earn her place in this family.

Three years on, she finally understood the truth. If a person held no love for one, all of one's sensibility and compromise only made one feel more insignificant.

*****

In late autumn, Carter Tower reflected a cold gleam under the setting sun, like a silver blade piercing the heart of the city.

Charlotte sat in the top-floor lounge, her fingers gently tracing the rim of her coffee cup. The coffee had long gone cold, and a thin film of milk had formed on top. She didn't drink it, absentmindedly spun the cup around and around.

Outside the window was the city's priciest view, including the river, the skyline, and the silhouette of distant hills. She'd watched the sunset from here for three years, and today was the last time.

The secretary pushed the door open, holding a document, her face set in that perfectly polished, professional smile, the kind honed over a decade in corporate offices.

"Ms. Lane, Mr. Carter's schedule is packed today. He asked you to sign the papers and leave," the secretary said.

The words pricked a numb, raw spot inside her, sharp as a fine needle. Only three days ago, she'd still been Mrs. Carter. But the second she signed this agreement, she'd no longer hold that married title.

The divorce agreement was spread out on the table, and the dense black print looked like an unbreakable wall.

On the last page, there was a blank signature line, and next to it, a check with so many zeros it made her head spin.

Charlotte stared at the check and suddenly laughed.

She remembered the day she married into the Carter family three years ago.

Vivian had sized her up in front of everyone, her lips curled in that always-perfect smile. "Ethan, you picked a good wife. She seems quiet and well-behaved."

The words sounded nice, but the tone told a different story. It meant her family background was nothing special, not good enough for them, but at least she was docile.

Back then, Charlotte stood in the middle of the living room, wearing a new light pink dress, holding a bouquet she'd arranged herself, smiling with grace.

She thought if she was sensible enough, considerate enough, and worked hard enough, she could earn her place in this family.

Three years on, she finally understood the truth. If a person held no love for one, all of one's sensibility and compromise only made one feel more insignificant.

She slid the check back across the table. "I'm not taking it."

The secretary paused, glancing at the string of zeros on the check, then back at Charlotte's face, as if checking whether she'd lost her mind. "Ms. Lane, this is Mr. Carter's instruction."

"That's my choice," Charlotte replied firmly.

She picked up the pen and signed her name on the line, each letter written with deliberate care, as if she were signing a flower shop's supply order.

This name had been hers for twenty-eight years, and today, she wrote it more carefully than ever.

As the pen lifted from the paper, she heard her own heartbeat, steady and strong.

She stood up, gently pushed the chair back into place, and grabbed the canvas bag from the sofa. Inside were her divorce papers and her battered copy of The Little Prince. Three years of marriage, and this was all she had to show for it.

As she stepped out of Carter Tower, the late autumn wind hit her face, carrying a cool, sweet scent. She glanced back. The whole building was like a giant piece of amber, sealing away three years of her youth.

Her eyes prickled with tears.

She took a deep breath and turned toward the subway station. The crisp "click-clack" of her heels on the granite pavement echoed with each step, as if marking each step she took away from her old life.

She didn't cry.

The subway was crowded, and Charlotte found herself wedged in the space between two carriages, leaning against the door, watching the tunnel lights flicker past.

Her phone buzzed. It was a message from Maggie Summers. [Did you sign it?]

Charlotte: [Yes.]

Maggie: [Did you cry?]

Charlotte: [No.]

Maggie: [If you feel like crying, do it. Don't bottle it up.]

Charlotte stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. She typed a few words, then erased them. In the end, she sent an emoji, a little bunny flashing an "OK" sign.

Maggie texted back in a flash: [Wait for me, I'm grabbing some beer. Tonight, we're drinking till we drop.]

She locked her phone and turned to face the door. Her reflection stared back at her with makeup flawless, hair still neat, the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile. She looked like nothing was wrong.

But she knew she'd hidden her pain so deep, she could barely find it herself.