Chapter 2

The chaos at the gala had barely ended when we got home.

Preston yanked off his tie and hurled it onto the couch.

Then he turned all his anger on me.

There wasn’t a trace of guilt on his face.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped. “Did you really have to humiliate me in front of every senior executive in that room?”

He pointed a finger inches from my face.

“You spend every day hiding in that little tailor shop. You have no idea how corporate relationships work.”

His mouth twisted with disgust.

“I’m fighting for the regional director position, and you chose the most important night of my career to make a scene.”

He looked at me as though I were something he had been forced to carry.

“You’re nothing but dead weight.”

I sat quietly on the couch and said nothing.

To Preston, my silence meant surrender.

He gave a cold snort, turned, and walked into the bathroom.

A moment later, the sound of running water filled the apartment, cutting him off from the living room.

The next morning, I returned to Sterling Group headquarters to confirm the fabric and fit of their winter uniforms.

As the purchasing manager and I passed an employee lounge, I caught sight of Preston through the half-open glass door.

He was “adjusting” the bow tie of a newly hired intern, wearing the same gentle smile he used whenever he wanted something.

“Your review for a full-time position will be on my desk next week,” he said casually.

“There are plenty of people waiting to take your place.”

He paused.

“Of course, the choice is yours. But I’d be more than happy to keep you here.”

The light in the young woman’s eyes disappeared.

She looked toward the hallway.

Two department managers were walking past.

Her lips parted, as though she wanted to call out for help.

Both men glanced at her.

Then they looked away.

Without changing expression, they continued down the hall.

The woman remained frozen in place for a long moment.

I didn’t rush inside.

I didn’t show a trace of anger.

A few seconds later, she walked out with her head lowered.

She wasn’t crying.

She just kept straightening the bow tie that was already perfectly straight.

I looked away and turned back to the purchasing manager with a polite, professional smile.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s continue discussing the wool construction.”

The purchasing manager glanced down at the tablet in his hand.

“Before we move on, I need to confirm something about the previous shipment.”

“What shipment?”

He turned the screen toward me.

“Three hundred yards of Italian Super 180s wool. According to the invoice, Mercer Studio supplied it six months ago.”

I stopped walking.

“We never supplied that order.”

His expression changed.

“The invoice carries your company name.”

I took the tablet and looked at the screen.

Mercer Studio.

My business address.

A purchase amount just under five hundred thousand dollars.

And beneath it, an electronic version of my signature.

It looked convincing.

It was not mine.

For the first time, the scene inside the employee lounge no longer felt like Preston’s only secret.

He had not merely hidden his wife from Sterling.

Somewhere inside the company’s records, he had been using her.

Once I was back in my car, I took out my phone.

I sent the security camera number and floor information to the studio’s shared email account.

Then I started the engine.

Outside the window, Preston walked out of the lobby looking pleased with himself.

I didn’t look at him.

I simply pulled into traffic.