Chapter 2

I stormed back to our cabin, my hands shaking with rage. The door slammed behind me as Brian followed, his face a mask of irritation.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, my voice echoing in the marble-floored suite.

Brian loosened his tie, his movements deliberate and controlled. "You're making a scene over nothing, Alexandra."

"Nothing?" I laughed, the sound brittle even to my own ears. "Your assistant is wearing my bracelet, my swimsuit—"

"Probably just borrowed them," he cut in, his tone dismissive. "You're overreacting."

I stared at him, searching for any sign of the man I'd married. "Borrowed? Without asking? And that kiss I saw last night—"

"You're being paranoid," Brian snapped, his eyes narrowing. "We were discussing work. Nothing more."

"Work requires you to trace her cheekbone? To kiss her like—"

"Like what?" He stepped closer, his voice dropping to that dangerous quiet I'd come to recognize. "Like I haven't kissed you in months? Is that what you're saying?"

The accusation hit like a physical blow. We both knew our intimacy had waned, but to hear him weaponize it...

"This isn't about us," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "This is about you betraying me."

Brian's laugh was cold. "Betrayed? Don't be dramatic, Alexandra. Willow is my assistant. We have professional interactions."

"Professional?" I repeated, my voice rising despite my efforts to control it. "Is it professional for her to wear my jewelry?"

Something flickered in his eyes—guilt? Annoyance?—before his expression hardened again.

"You're just jealous," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. "You've always been controlling, always needing to be the center of attention."

From the adjoining suite—connected by a door I hadn't realized was unlocked—came a soft cough. Willow stood in the doorway, her expression carefully neutral, though I caught the flash of satisfaction in her eyes.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

Brian's posture changed subtly—shoulders relaxing, voice softening. "It's fine. Alexandra was just leaving for dinner."

---

Later that evening, I was searching for my passport when I noticed Brian's briefcase sitting open on the desk. A folder had fallen partially out, papers spilling onto the floor.

As I gathered them, a letter caught my eye.

The letterhead was from my foundation—the scholarship program I'd established five years ago.

"Dear Ms. Hansen," it began in elegant script. "I cannot express how grateful I am for your generosity..."

My fingers trembled as I read further.

"...your support has changed my life. One day, I hope to repay your kindness. With deepest appreciation, Willow Turner."

The room seemed to tilt around me.

Willow Turner. My scholarship student.

The young woman who'd tearfully thanked me at graduation, who'd hugged me and promised to make something of herself—the woman I'd helped educate, who now wore my clothes, my jewelry, and kissed my husband.

"Looking for something?"

Brian stood in the doorway, watching me with narrowed eyes.

"This is from Willow," I said, my voice hollow as I held up the letter. "She was one of my scholarship students."

Something like pity flashed across his face. "You didn't know?"

The question hung between us, loaded with implications.

"How long?" I whispered.

"Don't do this," Brian warned, taking a step toward me.

I folded the letter carefully, my decision crystallizing with each crease. "Get out."

---

The formal dinner was held in the ship's grand dining room, crystal chandeliers casting a golden glow over white-clothed tables. I'd chosen to wear blue—a sapphire dress that had always been one of Brian's favorites.

I arrived early, taking my seat at our assigned table. Brian was nowhere to be seen, but I knew he'd make an appearance eventually. He never missed an opportunity to network.

I ordered a glass of wine, watching the other guests filter in.

Then I saw her.

Willow glided into the dining room in a stunning red gown—my red gown. The Valentino I'd bought for the company Christmas party last year.

My stomach clenched as she approached our table, her hips swaying in the dress that fit her as if it had been made for her.

"Alexandra," she greeted me with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I hope you don't mind me joining you."

Before I could respond, she slid into the chair beside mine—not across from me where Brian would sit.

"These earrings look lovely with this dress, don't you think?" She touched the diamond studs at her ears—my grandmother's earrings.

Brian appeared suddenly, sliding into his seat across from us. "Sorry I'm late."

His eyes flicked between Willow and me, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Willow," I said, my voice dangerously quiet. "That's my dress."

"Oh!" She looked down at herself with feigned surprise. "Brian insisted I wear it tonight. Said red suits my complexion better."

Brian's hand found Willow's under the table, his thumb stroking her wrist in a gesture so intimate it made my skin crawl.

"I thought it would be fun," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "A change of pace."

Willow smiled, her hand now resting possessively on Brian's arm. "He has such wonderful taste in clothing."

The waiter arrived with menus, but I barely heard him speak.