Chapter 2

Two folders sat on the edge of my desk.

One held the medical records of the left kidney I gave my husband.

The other held my forged passport.

Forty-eight hours left.

The study door clicked open.

Elias walked in, still wearing his tailored Brioni suit.

He smiled warmly, setting a delicate pink pastry box on top of my documents.

"I stood in line for twenty minutes at that French bakery," Elias said.

His voice dripped with manufactured devotion as he kissed my forehead. "To make up for working so late."

I opened the box.

Four pink grapefruit tarts sat neatly inside.

Grapefruit.

Because I had given him my kidney, my body relied on heavy anti-rejection medications.

Grapefruit was biologically toxic to me.

It blocked the enzymes that kept my remaining organ functioning.

Eating even one tart could send me into fatal renal failure.

For seven years, citrus had been strictly banned from our house.

"They look beautiful," I managed to say, my throat tightening.

"Eat them while they're fresh." Elias smiled, unbuttoning his collar.

"I'm going to shower. The board meeting left me exhausted."

He walked into the master bathroom.

Because he was so eager to wash off the scent of his affair, he left his phone sitting right next to the pink box.

A minute later, the screen illuminated the dark wood of my desk.

I didn't want to look.

But the harsh light forced my eyes downward.

The lock-screen preview shattered what was left of my heart.

Chloe - 8:15 PM

I told you I only like the strawberry ones. Glad you could just dump the sour leftovers on Nora so they didn't go to waste. Don't forget you promised to take the whole morning off for me tomorrow, baby.

The words blurred.

A sharp, physical pain twisted in my empty abdomen.

He didn't stand in line for me.

It wasn't an innocent mistake by a busy husband.

Because his mistress was a picky eater, he brought her unwanted leftovers home to me.

He offered them as a gift to his organ-donor wife.

He remembered exactly which flavor his mistress preferred.

But he completely forgot the life-or-death dietary restrictions of the woman who saved his life.

The shower turned off.

My shaking hands quickly swept the tarts into the trash can.

I shoved the folders into the drawer.

Elias walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping down his chest.

He glanced at the empty pink box and smiled complacently.

I sat heavily on the edge of the sofa.

The sheer weight of my ten-year love for this man was suddenly crushing me.

"Elias," I whispered.

My voice cracked, raw and exhausted. "I'm so tired."

He walked over immediately.

Dropping to one knee, he wrapped his warm, damp arms around my waist.

He buried his face in my stomach.

"I know, sweetie. The holiday preparations are always stressful," he murmured, kissing the fabric of my dress.

"No." I gently placed my trembling hand on his wet hair.

My eyes burned, but no tears fell.

"I mean... I feel like I'm fading."

I took a shaky breath. "Elias... have you ever lied to me?"

His entire body went completely still.

For one agonizing second, the silence in the room was deafening.

I waited.

I desperately hoped he would show just a single ounce of guilt.

Just a flicker of hesitation.

Instead, he lifted his head.

His eyes were wide, clear, and perfectly innocent.

"Lie to you?" Elias let out a soft, almost wounded laugh.

He reached up, cupping my cheek with the exact same hands that had caressed Chloe's skin.

"Nora, why would I ever lie to the woman who saved my life?"

He looked deeply into my eyes. "You are my sanctuary. My only one."

His answer was so flawless.

His heartbeat against my palm didn't even skip a beat.

And because of that, the last remaining ember of my love for him instantly turned to ash.

He wasn't a man making a mistake.

He was a monster wearing my husband's face.

"You're right," I said quietly, letting my hand slide off his hair.

I leaned against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"You're my whole world."

"And you are mine," Elias whispered.

He tightened his hold on me, completely satisfied that his safety net was secure.

Over his broad shoulder, my eyes locked onto the calendar on the wall.

December 22nd.

Forty-eight hours.

I closed my eyes and let him hold me.

It was the last time he ever would.