Chapter 2

"What?" Edward shot straight up in his seat. He was instantly sober.

He just stared at me for a long, hard second. Then he yanked his tie loose and fell back against the couch.

He snapped, "Claire, what the hell is your problem? Are you trying to make a scene?

"We lived in a dirt-cheap basement for five years when I was a nobody, and you never once brought up divorce.

"Now I'm finally successful. Henry's almost grown. And this is when you decide to lose your mind? Now?

"I get it, you're pissed. But don't just say crap you don't mean.

"A divorce? Right now? Have you even thought about what this does to Henry?

"Sophie only took the bracelet for him. Why can't you, just once, not be so petty?

"You're paranoid and jealous all the time. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? Who else would put up with you?

"Keep it up. I might sign the divorce papers, and you would regret it."

I didn't say a word.

Our whole life flashed before my eyes, like a cheap movie.

I felt something wet on my cheek and flinched before I even realized what it was.

It was Edward, trying to wipe the frosting off my face with a wet wipe.

"I was just pissed off, alright?" he grumbled. "I didn't mean to shove your face in the cake.

"I mean, honestly, this whole thing would've been fine if you'd handed over the bracelet. Henry and I wouldn't have had to get rough."

I shoved his hand away. The bruise on my wrist was already turning dark.

"Don't touch me with that wipe!" I snapped.

His patience snapped. He threw the wipe down on the table.

He spat, "Claire, I already explained everything! I said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?

"Yeah, the wet wipe is from Sophie. Why do you always have to make everything about her?

"What is your problem? Are you menopausal or something? You're getting old, Claire. Act your age, and stop trying to pick fights with a young girl."

I could feel the tears burning, but I just smiled. It felt awful.

"Edward," I said, my voice shaky, "just smell it. Go on."

He looked confused for a second, then picked up the wipe and sniffed it.

"It's mango," he said, like I was an idiot. "So? Sophie likes mango. The cake was mango. What's your problem now?"

A laugh bubbled out of me. It was a horrible, hollow sound. God, I was so tired.

Fourteen years. We had been together for fourteen years. And he'd forgotten that I was deathly allergic to mangoes.

Then again, why would he remember? He had a whole new fan club of girls like Sophie throwing themselves at him.

How could I expect the man he'd become to remember a little detail like that?

My face was already starting to itch and burn. I grabbed my purse and stood up.

"I'll have my lawyer draft the divorce papers," I said. "Get your own, if you want."

Edward grabbed my wrist and tried to speak.

Before he could spin another excuse, I looked him dead in the eye and said, "Wipe the lipstick off your face before you speak to me again."

I saw the panic flicker in his eyes. Then it turned to pure rage. He shoved me hard, right back onto the sofa.

"Don't you push me," he sneered, getting right in my face. "You think you can just leave? You get a divorce when I say you get one."

He was cornered and furious. He turned and stormed out the front door.

"Mr. Palmer!" Sophie called after him, but he didn't even break stride.

My phone buzzed. It was the tutoring center Edward had set up for Henry.

"Hi, Ms. Bennett?" a cheerful voice said. "I'm just calling to confirm Henry's new tutoring schedule.

"Mr. Palmer said you'd be handling all the details."

I closed my eyes.

"From now on, you talk to Edward." I hung up.

For Henry's entire life, I was the bad guy. I was the wicked witch.

And Edward always got to be the hero.

It was simple: I was the one who actually had to parent.

I was the one who made Henry do his homework, dragged him to tutors, and told him no more video games, no more junk food.

And every single time, Edward would swoop in, side with Henry, and paint me as the villain.

But I was still the one stuck with all the "mom duties," all on Edward's terms.

So, naturally, I became the person Henry hated most in the world.

I couldn't do it anymore. I was done.

I opened my eyes. I pulled up an airline app. I booked a one-way ticket. Then I opened my texts and found a name I hadn't touched in years.

I typed one sentence: [About that partnership you offered me. I'm in.]

The reply came back in less than a second: [Good.]

As I locked my phone, someone suddenly leaned on my left shoulder.

Then I heard that sickeningly sweet voice pipe up right next to me. "Claire? Mr. Palmer's taking me shopping tomorrow. You wanna come?"