Chapter 2

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the breakfast scene before me—Dexter's careful arrangement of food, the way Persephone reached for him so casually. But I needed to see more. I needed to understand the full extent of what had happened in my absence.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. "I'd like to check my home."

Dexter nodded quickly, relief washing over his features. "Of course, Maia. Make yourself at home."

Make myself at home. In my own penthouse.

I moved past them, through the dining room where we'd hosted countless dinner parties with clients and friends. The antique mahogany table my grandmother had left me was gone, replaced by a sleek glass surface with metal accents. The chairs—custom-made to match the table—had been swapped for modern pieces in bright white leather.

"Do you like what I've done with the place?" Persephone called after me, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Dex let me redecorate. I thought it needed a more modern touch."

I didn't respond. Words failed me as I moved into the living room. My handcrafted Turkish rug—the one I'd spent weeks selecting—had vanished. In its place lay a geometric patterned piece in shades of pink and gold that matched her luggage.

Everywhere I looked, pieces of my life had been erased and replaced with her stamp. The classic elegance I'd cultivated over years had been transformed into something trendy and soulless.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor, my heart pounding with each step. The guest room had been converted into what looked like a home office for Persephone, with fashion magazines scattered across a new desk and designer clothes hanging in the closet.

Finally, I reached the master bedroom—our bedroom. The door swung open to reveal unfamiliar silk sheets in burgundy and black, pillows I'd never seen before, and a comforter set that made my skin crawl. The scent of unfamiliar perfume hung heavy in the air.

On the nightstand sat two wine glasses, lipstick smudged on the rims. Beside them, an open box of condoms and a bottle of Dom P�rignon that I'd never purchased.

"Dexter," I called, my voice steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Can you explain this?"

He appeared in the doorway, Persephone hovering behind him with a smirk playing at her lips.

"Maia, I can explain," he began, running a hand through his hair. "Persephone had some friends over last night. They must have left those behind."

"Friends," I repeated, picking up the condom box. "Friends who use condoms in our bed?"

"Someone else must have left them," he insisted, his eyes darting to Persephone. "I don't know whose they are."

Persephone rolled her eyes dramatically. "For God's sake, Dex."

I set the box down and moved to the kitchen, where I could hear movement. Dexter followed, desperation evident in every line of his body.

"Maia, please understand—"

"Understand what?" I cut him off as I entered the kitchen.

There he stood at my espresso machine—the one he'd always claimed was too complicated to operate—preparing what looked like perfect lattes. The coffee beans in the grinder were ones I'd never purchased, dark and aromatic.

"You never cooked for me," I said quietly. "Not once in three years."

He looked up, coffee cup in hand. "I never had time before."

"Time?" I laughed bitterly. "You had time to make eggs Benedict and perfect lattes for her."

As if summoned by my words, Persephone appeared in the doorway. She sauntered over to Dexter, plucked a strawberry from a bowl on the counter, and fed it to him with deliberate slowness.

"Some women just don't inspire domestic gestures," she said, pressing herself against his side. She kissed his cheek lingeringly, her eyes locked with mine over his shoulder.

I watched as he didn't pull away from her touch, didn't protest her words. Instead, he handed her one of the lattes he'd prepared, his fingers brushing against hers.

In that moment, something inside me hardened into resolve. This wasn't just about an affair or betrayal. This was about erasure—they had systematically removed every trace of me from my own home while I was away building our future.

And they'd done it without shame.