Chapter 1

My husband was kissing another woman when I walked into his office.

She was young and beautiful, dressed in silver for the charity dinner downstairs. One of Conrad's hands rested on her waist. The other held a glass of whiskey.

Neither of them looked embarrassed.

The woman smiled at me. "I thought you said no one would disturb us."

Conrad didn't take his eyes off me. "What are you doing here, Lenora?"

I held the strap of my cello case tighter. I had been hired to play at the dinner, but that wasn't why I had come upstairs.

"I need to speak to you. Alone."

The woman leaned closer to him. "Should I leave?"

"No," Conrad said.

The answer hurt more than it should have. Conrad and I were still married, even if he had spent years treating me like a stranger.

I closed the door behind me. "I need an advance on tonight's payment."

His mouth curved into a cold smile.

"Of course you do."

The woman looked from him to me. "Is she one of the musicians?"

"She used to be much more than that," Conrad said. "Before she decided money mattered more than anything else."

I ignored the insult. "The dinner is sold out. You can deduct the advance from my fee."

"You haven't played a single note yet."

"Then I'll play now."

His eyes dropped to my cello case.

"You must need the money badly."

"I do."

"Is the man you left me for no longer paying your bills?"

The woman gave a quiet laugh.

I forced myself not to look at her. "There was no other man."

"And you didn't steal from my foundation either, I suppose."

"I didn't."

His face hardened. "Don't lie to me in my own office."

I had brought him evidence before. He had refused to read it. Nothing I said tonight would change his mind.

I opened the cello case instead.

Conrad watched as I lifted out the instrument. He knew this cello. He had given it to me when we still believed our marriage would last forever.

The woman ran one finger around the rim of his glass.

"Are we getting a private concert?"

"It seems that way," he said.

I sat in the chair near the window and placed the cello between my knees.

"What do you want me to play?"

Conrad walked back to the sofa. The woman sat beside him, leaving no space between them.

"Something romantic," she said.

My fingers tightened around the bow.

Conrad saw it. A cruel light entered his eyes.

"Play the piece you used to play for me."

For a moment, I couldn't move.

I had played that melody for him on quiet mornings and sleepless nights. It had belonged to the years when he kissed my hands and told me he would never let them go cold.

Now he wanted me to play it while he held another woman.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

I thought of the notice waiting in my bag.

"No."

The first note came out clean.

I kept my eyes on the strings. Looking at Conrad would only make this harder.

Halfway through the piece, the woman whispered something in his ear. He smiled at her.

Then she kissed him.

My bow shook, and one note broke.

"Stop," Conrad said.

I lowered the bow.

"I can finish."

"I don't pay for mistakes."

He took an envelope from his desk and dropped it onto the table in front of me.

"That's more than the unfinished performance was worth."

I picked up the envelope and checked the money inside.

It wasn't enough.

"I need the full payment."

"Then you should've played the full piece."

The woman stood and fixed the front of her dress. "Conrad, we'll be late."

He rose and offered her his arm.

I stepped in front of them. "Let me play something else."

His gaze moved over my face. "You used to refuse private performances, even for important guests."

"Things have changed."

"Clearly."

The woman touched his chest. "She can perform downstairs. We have a dinner to host."

Conrad took her hand and walked around me.

"Your payment will be sent after the event," he said. "If you manage to finish your work."

My phone screen lit up inside my open bag.

The hospital number appeared beside a message reminding me that Micah's treatment could not begin until the deposit was paid.

I looked at the envelope again.

It would cover only a small part of what my son needed.

Conrad was already at the door, his hand resting on the other woman's waist.

"Wait."

He looked back at me.

I returned to the chair and raised the cello between my knees.

My face burned, but I placed the bow against the strings.

"What else do you want me to play?"