Chapter 3

I stood outside the grand Queen Anne mansion, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged animal. The Seattle rain had begun to fall, gentle drops sliding down my face like the tears I refused to shed. Music and laughter spilled from the windows, golden light illuminating the manicured garden where waiters in crisp uniforms circulated with champagne flutes.

Marcus's birthday celebration. An event I hadn't been invited to, despite being his wife.

Or so I had thought.

I smoothed the midnight blue sheath dress I'd purchased that afternoon—a small extravagance that had felt like armor when I'd slipped it on in my hotel room. My wedding ring caught the light as I reached for the ornate door handle, and I paused, staring at the platinum band that now felt like a shackle rather than a symbol of love.

'You don't have to do this,' I whispered to myself, but the photos of Marcus with his other family burned in my memory. Seven years of lies deserved a reckoning.

I stepped inside without knocking. The foyer opened into a grand living room where at least fifty people mingled, crystal glasses in hand, designer clothes gleaming under chandeliers that probably cost more than my car. I recognized some faces from Marcus's medical conferences—colleagues who had smiled at me, asked after my health, all while knowing I was the other woman.

The shame of it scorched my throat.

I moved through the crowd, invisible at first, a ghost at the feast. Then, like a ripple in still water, awareness spread. Conversations halted mid-sentence. Eyes widened in recognition, then darted away in embarrassment or curiosity.

And there he was—Marcus, my husband, standing beside a grand piano, laughing at something someone had said. He looked so carefree, so unburdened by the double life he'd been leading. The sight of him twisted something deep inside me.

Then I saw her. Amanda Chen. Marcus's real wife. She was even more beautiful in person than in the photographs—elegant in a red dress that hugged her slender figure, her dark hair swept into an intricate updo. She was watching me, her eyes narrowing as she registered my presence.

Our gazes locked across the room, and in that moment, I knew she recognized me. I saw it in the slight stiffening of her shoulders, the calculating gleam that entered her eyes.

She moved with purpose toward the center of the room, raising one perfectly manicured hand. The music died abruptly.

'Everyone,' she called, her voice melodious and controlled. 'We have an unexpected guest.'

The room fell silent. Marcus turned, and the blood drained from his face when he saw me standing there. His glass slipped from his fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor, but no one moved to clean it up. All eyes were on me.

'This is Helena Mitchell,' Amanda continued, her smile never wavering though her eyes remained cold. 'One of Marcus's former patients. She's been struggling with some... mental health issues.'

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. I stood frozen, humiliation burning through me like acid.

'She developed quite an unhealthy attachment to her doctor,' Amanda added, her voice dripping with false sympathy. 'We've tried to be understanding, haven't we, darling?'

Marcus said nothing. He simply stared at me, his eyes pleading, though whether for forgiveness or silence, I couldn't tell. He made no move to defend me, to acknowledge our marriage, to admit any part of the truth.

The guests began to edge away from me, as if mental instability might be contagious. I saw pity in some faces, disgust in others. A woman pulled her child closer to her side.

'I think it would be best if you left,' Amanda said softly, though her words carried in the silence. 'Before we need to call someone.'

The implication hung in the air—before we need to call security, or worse, a psychiatric facility. My legs trembled beneath me, but I refused to collapse here, in front of these people, in front of him.

I turned and walked out, my head high though my heart was shattering. The rain had intensified, soaking through my thin dress as I stumbled down the steps and onto the sidewalk. I kept walking, blind with tears and rage, until I was blocks away from the house of lies.

With shaking hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed the only person I could trust.

'Sarah?' My voice broke on her name. 'It's worse than I thought. So much worse.'