Chapter 1

Grant supposedly just got back from a business trip to Belize. His company, he claimed, required a seven-day mandatory travel quarantine at a designated corporate hotel.

I packed him a bag of fresh clothes overnight and drove them over to Manhattan.

The front desk clerk checked the system three times before looking up at me.

"Ma'am, we don't have a Grant Mercer registered. And there are no corporate blocks booked under his company."

I froze. I was just pulling out my phone to call him when a black Porsche Panamera caught my eye. It was pulling up to the curb outside a boutique hotel directly across the street.

Grant stepped out of the driver's side. He walked around, opened the passenger door, and took a young woman's hand to help her out. Then he leaned down and kissed her.

She laughed, pushing playfully at his chest, but he just pulled her flush against him and kissed her deeper.

Savannah Hale.

The girl he had sponsored for years. His ward.

The one person he swore, three years ago, he would cut out of his life forever.

My phone buzzed in my hand.

Grant had sent a photo of a large hotel bed.

[Baby, wait for me to come home.]

Home?

What home did we even have left?

I crossed the street and walked into the boutique hotel.

The lobby was far too quiet.

I stepped up to the front desk. "The man and woman who just walked in. What floor are they on?"

The young receptionist looked up, his expression immediately guarded.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't disclose guest information."

I didn't push it.

Instead, I walked over to the lounge area, sat down, and sent an iMessage to Nolan, Grant's executive assistant.

[Didn't Grant go to Belize?]

The reply came almost instantly.

[Mrs. Mercer, Mr. Mercer hasn't left the country recently. He's been in New York the whole time.]

My eyes burned.

[I just saw him with Savannah.]

A heavy silence stretched over the chat. Then, a long string of messages flooded my screen.

[Mrs. Mercer, I've kept my mouth shut for three years.]

[Every time Mr. Mercer said he was going on an overseas business trip, he was usually going to see Savannah.]

[She moved back to New York seven days ago. He's been with her this entire week.]

[Belize and the mandatory travel quarantine were just excuses so he could stay with her a little longer.]

I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling.

For three years, he had used monthly overseas trips as a cover to see Savannah.

[I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mercer.]

[I thought you two had a good marriage. I thought eventually he would end things with Savannah and return to his marriage.]

Return to his marriage.

I read those words and thought back to three years ago. Grant waking up at St. Catherine's Medical Center, his wrists wrapped in gauze, his eyes bloodshot as he gripped my hand like a lifeline.

"Claire, I don't love her."

"I'll make her leave New York. I'll never see her again."

"Trust me."

I locked my phone screen.

Something shattered in my chest. It was a quiet sound, but the pain was so sharp I couldn't breathe.

The elevator doors chimed open.

Grant walked out with his arm wrapped tightly around Savannah's waist. They headed straight for the hotel's convenience store.

I instinctively pulled my cap down lower and adjusted my face mask.

Savannah playfully swatted his chest.

"This is your fault. We already had our clothes off before we realized we were out. I told you to just keep going, but you insisted on coming downstairs."

Grant let out a low chuckle, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

His voice was husky, carrying an undeniable firmness.

"No way. What if you get pregnant? I'm not putting you through that."

I stood frozen in the lobby. Another memory flashed through my mind.

Three years ago.

Before we were married, in his apartment.

I had pushed against his chest, nervous.

"We can't, we don't have protection. What if I get pregnant—"

He had kissed me, his breathing heavy, his eyes burning with intensity.

"If you do, we keep it. I'll take responsibility and marry you."

Back then, he said if I got pregnant, we'd keep it.

It was an obligation.

Now, with her, he said he couldn't risk it.

Savannah giggled, tracing circles on his chest.

"Doesn't your wife check up on you?"

"You've been gone a whole week and she hasn't asked a single question?"

Grant scoffed. It was a careless sound, laced with a hint of smugness.

"She believes whatever I tell her."

"Right now, she's probably just counting down the days until my quarantine ends so I can come home."

Savannah looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration.

"You're terrible."

"You have her completely fooled."

Grant stopped walking and gently pinched her chin.

"I don't care how much of a scene she makes, I'm never letting you go again."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against hers.

"I'm done playing by the rules these past three years."

I didn't move a muscle.

But beneath my mask, tears were already streaming down my face.

They finished paying and walked right past me.

The scent of Savannah's perfume drifted over me.

Grant kept his arm around her, not even sparing me a glance.

The elevator doors slowly slid shut.

I sank to a crouch, burying my face in my knees.

My phone lit up again.

[The Wi-Fi at the quarantine hotel is terrible. I'll call you later. Get some sleep. Love you.]

I stared at the message and let out a broken laugh.

A tear dropped onto the screen, blurring that hypocritical word: Love.