Chapter 1

Mara's POV

Today was our fifth wedding anniversary. It was also exactly three years since the day I lost our baby.

Graham had kissed my forehead that morning, apologizing that a critical board meeting would keep him downtown until dinner. I couldn't bear spending the entire afternoon alone in the house, so I drove out to the suburbs. I was picking up a custom-engraved watch I’d ordered for his anniversary gift months ago.

Three years ago, I would have been at the architecture firm by this hour, buried in blueprints. After the miscarriage, Graham convinced me that quitting was the only way I would recover.

I believed him.

As I walked out of the boutique, clutching the velvet box in my pocket, I froze.

Graham’s black Range Rover was parked outside a family-style Italian restaurant right across the street.

I pulled my coat tighter and walked closer, stopping behind a streetlamp. The restaurant was softly lit, with only a handful of late-lunch customers inside. Through the large glass window, I saw him.

He wasn't in his usual tailored suit. He wore a casual gray sweater, leaning forward with a napkin to gently wipe tomato sauce off a little boy’s chin. The boy had his dark hair.

A young brunette sat across from them. She smiled, handing the boy a fresh crayon.

"Look, Daddy!" The toddler slapped a drawing onto the wooden table.

Graham laughed. It was an easy, unguarded sound I hadn't heard from him in years. He ruffled the boy’s hair, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

I stood there on the pavement until the edge of the velvet box dug into my palm.

The woman reached out. Her fingers lightly brushed Graham’s sleeve, tracing the fabric in an intimate, familiar motion. I caught only a few words, but they sounded like part of a conversation they had had many times before.

"Can't you stay tonight?" she asked. "Owen has been asking for you all week."

Her voice was soft, her eyes lowered. I couldn't tell whether the vulnerability was genuine or simply something Graham responded to.

Graham’s smile faded. His gaze dropped to the table. For several seconds, he said nothing.

"Not today," Graham said quietly, pulling his hand back. "Mara is waiting for me. You know how hard October is for her."

Before he stood up, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

I didn't storm into the restaurant. I didn't scream or demand answers. I stepped back into the shadows, walked to my car, and locked the doors.

My fingers didn't shake until the car doors were locked. I didn't call my husband. Instead, I searched my contacts for the number of Gideon Price, a private investigator a former client had once recommended.

I needed to know how long he had been lying to me.