Chapter 1

On their third wedding anniversary, Nina Evans got a message from her best friend Sophie Lane: [That bastard Jayden is throwing Claire a birthday party at Velvet Lounge. How much longer will you cling to false hope?]

Claire Summers was Jayden's childhood sweetheart, the girl he always carried in his heart. Word was, if the Summers family hadn't suddenly moved abroad, Nina would never have become Mrs. Landon.

Memories drifted back to a rainy night three years prior. Jayden Landon stood in her living room, his black overcoat damp from the downpour, his tone colder than rain. "Ms. Evans, I need a wife. In return, I will resolve the Evans Group's severe funding crisis."

There was no ring, no heartfelt proposal, only a rigid prenuptial contract and an extravagant wedding.

That night, he brought Claire home.

Nina traced her wrist scar silently, resolving to wait one more year. If Jayden still failed to see her sacrifices, then she would set herself free.

*****

As Nina set the final batch of buttery shortbread upon the dining table, the vintage wall clock chimed quarter to eleven.

She slipped off her apron and sat down, her gaze lingering on an empty bowl across the dining table. For three long years, Jayden had never shared a single dinner at home, yet Nina waited faithfully every year on this exact day.

This was their third wedding anniversary.

A phone vibration came from her pocket, carrying a message from her best friend Sophie: [That bastard Jayden is throwing Claire a birthday party at Velvet Lounge. How much longer will you cling to false hope?]

Nina's fingers froze over the screen.

Claire cut deep into her marriage like a sharp thorn. As Jayden's childhood sweetheart, she had always been his unspoken obsession. Nina would never have become Mrs. Landon if the Summers family had not moved overseas abruptly years ago.

Memories drifted back to a rainy night three years prior. Jayden stood in her living room, his black overcoat damp from the downpour, his tone colder than rain. "Ms. Evans, I need a wife. In return, I will resolve the Evans Group's severe funding crisis."

There was no ring, no heartfelt proposal, only a rigid prenuptial contract and an extravagant wedding. Nina once believed patience could melt his icy heart, but hope had faded into bitter naivety.

Just then, a car engine rumbled outside the house.

Nina shot to her feet, ignoring a sharp sting as her knee hit the table edge. She rushed toward the foyer, only to freeze the moment her fingers brushed the doorknob.

Sweet, familiar feminine laughter drifted through the door, echoing sharply in her ears. "This house is always so cold and lifeless, Jayden. It lacks any warmth at all."

The door swung open. Jayden stood in the entryway with Claire at his side, dressed in an elegant champagne gown.

His suit jacket hung loosely over one arm, his tie undone to reveal pale, defined collarbones. Rare ease softened his features. It was a gentle warmth Nina had never once received for herself.

"Why are you still awake?" Jayden frowned at the sight of her, as if she did not belong in her own home.

Nina's eyes fell on Claire's feet. A pair of brand-new pink fuzzy slippers, unopened and stored on the top shelf of the shoe cabinet just weeks before, rested there casually.

"These slippers..." Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Oh, my feet were killing me, so Jayden said I could wear whatever I wanted. You don't mind, do you, Nina?" Claire replied, tilting her head with an innocent smile, like a doe.

Nina turned to look at Jayden, who had already walked past her into the living room without a second glance. "It is just a pair of slippers. Claire leaves tomorrow morning anyway."

Nina clenched her fists tight. To him, every part of her life, every slight hurt she endured, had always meant nothing at all.

"Jayden said the master bedroom has the softest mattress." Claire leaned closer, her cloying perfume heavy in the air. "May I stay there tonight? We grew up together, and he only sees me as a little sister, I promise."

"Help yourself," Nina replied flatly.

She turned away, unaware of how Jayden's eyes widened sharply, or the triumphant smile playing across Claire's face in shadow.

With a pillow tucked against her chest, Nina retreated quietly to a guest room. Beneath dim moonlight filtering through the windows, a faint pink scar stood out on her left wrist.

Two years ago, Jayden had been kidnapped, and she had smashed a car window bare-handed to free him. With a fractured leg, she dragged his unconscious body nearly a mile until rescue arrived.

When Jayden woke in the hospital, his first question concerned only Claire, who had been caught up in the abduction by chance and fainted from fear.

Nina left seven stitches in her wrist, yet the Landon family barred her from his ward entirely, sending her home to "rest undisturbed."

She never spoke of the scar's origin. Jayden would never believe her anyway. In his eyes, Nina was nothing more than a greedy woman who married him for money and clung stubbornly to the title of Mrs. Landon.

Just then, another phone notification interrupted her thoughts.

Jayden said: [Make creamy oatmeal for breakfast tomorrow. Claire has a sensitive stomach.]

A bitter smile tugged at Nina's lips before tears spilled onto her phone screen, blurring the text.

She replied: [Okay.]

She typed that reply three times. First, it was "Get lost." Then, "Why should I?" Only on the third try did she settle on "Okay." Because she couldn't afford to lose Jayden's money.

After her mother's death, her father remarried, bringing a new wife and stepsister, Mila Evans, into the family manor, leaving Nina, the legitimate daughter, an outsider in her old home. His monthly alimony was her only livelihood and last shred of dignity.

Nina buried her face in her pillow, breathing in the faint lavender scent of her laundry detergent. Jayden hated soft fragrances; cold bleach clung permanently to his bed linens.

Even their pillows had never shared the same warmth across three hollow years of marriage.

Thirst woke Nina at three in the morning.

She padded quietly to the kitchen for water, stopping short at the sight in the living room.

Moonlight flooded the space through floor-to-ceiling glass, illuminating Jayden alone on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in hand. He wore only a black tank top, showcasing sharp, sculpted shoulders.

He lifted his head at her movement, his gaze lingering on her frail frame draped in a simple white nightgown.

"Did I wake you?" Drunkenness lingered in his low voice.

Nina stayed silent. Jayden rarely spoke to her voluntarily, leaving her flustered and rooted in place with her water glass tight in hand.

He finished his whiskey in one gulp and spoke again, "Today marks my mother's death anniversary."

Nina knew this well. Jayden spent every anniversary alone at the cemetery, which was why she had baked shortbread, which was Miranda Landon's favorite treat in life.

"Claire..." Jayden paused, searching for the right words. "Her mom and mine were best friends. She's always there for me on this day."

So he'd taken Claire to honor his mother's memory, and then brought her back to their house.

A heavy ache squeezed Nina's heart. She wanted to say she could have accompanied him, too, that she had learned to bake shortbread just for his grief, but only calm practicality left her mouth. "The creamy oatmeal simmers in the pot. Do not forget to turn off the heat at dawn."

She tried to leave, but Jayden grabbed her wrist firmly.

His skin burned hot against hers, alcoholic breath brushing her ear softly. "Do you think I am a terrible man, Nina?"

With her back turned to him, she replied politely, "You jest, Mr. Landon."

"You always act like this. Quiet, unyielding, never crying or arguing, just like..." he murmured quietly to himself.

His sentence faded unfinished.

Nina gently pulled her wrist free. "Ms. Summers rests in the master suite. You should head to bed now, Mr. Landon."

In the kitchen, she drank a full glass of cold water in one go. Frigid chill ran down her throat to her stomach, yet it could not quiet the burning frustration building inside her.

Unrelenting resentment lingered still.

She recalled the final clause of their prenuptial agreement. If Nina filed for divorce, she would leave with nothing and keep all marital details confidential forever.

She signed without hesitation long ago, driven by pure love. At eighteen, one glance at Jayden during a family gala had captured her heart completely.

Now twenty-five, her love remained, yet exhaustion outweighed devotion entirely.

Nina traced her wrist scar silently, resolving to wait one more year. If Jayden still failed to see her sacrifices, then she would set herself free.

Unbeknownst to her, Jayden sat alone on the sofa until sunrise, long after she left.

Behind the master bedroom door, Claire's eyes glinted with vicious hatred in the dark night.