Chapter 3

Three days later, Maxwell walked into the living room carrying breakfast from my favorite café.

My mother was stable, and Claire had spent the previous two days preparing the divorce petition and preserving the financial records I had found.

He placed the bag on the table and studied me carefully.

I had not questioned him about where he had been. I had not mentioned the money he had promised to send. My silence was beginning to make him nervous.

"Lenora," he said softly, sitting beside me. "I know I handled your mother's emergency badly."

Badly. He had left my mother without the money that could save her, and he called it handling things badly.

"The company was in chaos," he continued. "I panicked and made the wrong decision. Let me make it up to you."

He reached for my hand. I quietly pulled it away.

His smile stiffened.

“It’s my birthday today,” he said. “I’ve booked us a trip to Iceland. You always wanted to see the northern lights.”

I looked up at him.

"Our flight leaves tonight. Business class. I arranged everything."

He watched my face, waiting for relief or gratitude.

Instead, I smiled.

"All right. I'll pack."

The tension left his shoulders.

"That's my girl. I knew you'd understand."

Over the next few hours, I packed a suitcase in front of him.

Maxwell assumed I was packing for Iceland.

He did not know that I had packed everything I intended to keep from our five-year marriage.

That evening, the car he had arranged took us to the airport. We had barely entered the terminal when his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and stepped away to answer.

When he returned, his expression had changed.

"There's a crisis with the overseas project," he said. "The investors are threatening to pull out. I have to meet them tonight."

"What about the trip?"

"You should still go. I'll take tomorrow's flight and meet you there."

I studied his face. "You want me to fly to Iceland alone on your birthday?"

"It's only one night." He kissed my forehead. "Go through security. I'll call you as soon as the meeting ends."

He waited until I walked toward the checkpoint before turning away.

I did not board the plane.

Ten minutes later, I left through another exit and opened Instagram.

Arabella had posted a Story.

A candlelit table was set for two. Beside a bottle of champagne sat a black birthday cake with a silver M across the top.

The caption read:

"Some birthdays should only be shared with the person who knows your heart."

She had tagged the Blues, a restaurant famous for private proposals and anniversary dinners.

I looked down at the envelope inside my handbag.

Inside my handbag was a copy of the divorce petition Claire had filed with the court that afternoon.

Maxwell thought he had sent me thousands of miles away so he could celebrate his birthday with the woman he truly loved.

I slipped my phone into my pocket and hailed a cab.

I was not going to the Blues to catch him cheating.

I already knew exactly who he was.

I was going there to make sure he knew I was done.