Chapter 2

My phone vibrated against the nightstand, jolting me awake. An unknown number. I hesitated before answering.

"Hello, Viviana." The voice was honeyed, familiar in a way that made my stomach clench. "It's Ada. Ada Armstrong."

My fingers tightened around the phone. "How did you get my number?"

"From Harrison's phone, of course." Her laugh tinkled like breaking glass. "I thought it was time we had a proper chat, woman to woman. The Artemis Café on Fifth, tomorrow at eleven."

She hung up before I could refuse.

* * *

The Artemis Café gleamed with polished marble and crystal chandeliers. Ada had chosen the most visible table—center stage for whatever performance she had planned. She waved delicately as I approached, her wrist adorned with a diamond bracelet I recognized immediately. Harrison had designed it himself, once mentioning he'd create something similar for our fifth anniversary.

"That's new," I said, nodding toward the bracelet as I sat down.

Ada's smile widened as she twisted it in the light. "Harrison has exquisite taste, doesn't he? He said it reminded him of starlight on water—our first night together at his lake house."

Each word was a calculated cut. I touched my wedding ring instinctively, twisting it around my finger.

"What do you want, Ada?"

She leaned forward, her perfume—the same scent I'd noticed on Harrison's collar last week—clouding the space between us. "I want to make something clear. Harrison and I have unfinished business. What we had—what we *have*—isn't something that disappears just because you played nursemaid for a few years."

"I'm his wife."

"On paper." She reached into her purse and slid her phone across the table. "But this is reality."

The screen showed Harrison and Ada at the symphony, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders. Another showed them laughing on his yacht—the one he'd claimed was being repaired when I'd suggested we take it out last weekend. In the last photo, they were dancing, his lips pressed against her temple in a gesture so intimate I had to look away.

"He tells me everything, you know," Ada continued, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "How he feels obligated to you. How he married you out of gratitude, not love. How he wishes he could find a way to leave without hurting you."

My chest constricted. "You're lying."

"Am I?" She smiled, retrieving her phone. "Let's make a wager, then. Whoever makes Harrison happier gets to keep him. Fair?"

"He's not a prize to be won."

"Oh, but he is." Ada's eyes glittered with malice beneath her perfect makeup. "And I've already started collecting."

* * *

The Manhattan Medical Center's waiting room was hushed, elegant, filled with expectant mothers in designer maternity wear. I clutched my purse, my pregnancy test results tucked safely inside. Dr. Chen was the best obstetrician in the city—Harrison's mother had recommended her years ago, saying she'd delivered three generations of Black family babies.

I was halfway through the intake form when the receptionist's voice cut through my concentration. "Mrs. Black? Dr. Chen will see you now."

I looked up, confused—I hadn't finished the paperwork—only to see Ada rise gracefully from a chair across the room, Harrison at her side. His hand rested protectively on her lower back as they followed the nurse.

"There must be some mistake," I said, approaching the desk. "I'm Mrs. Black. Viviana Black."

The receptionist's smile faltered. "Oh. I'm sorry for the confusion. Are you... related?"

"I'm his wife," I whispered, acutely aware of the curious glances from other patients.

"I see." Her expression shifted to one of uncomfortable pity. "Dr. Chen is with them now for their first prenatal visit. Perhaps you'd like to reschedule?"

The room tilted slightly. Ada, pregnant? With Harrison's child? The cruelty of her wager suddenly made horrific sense.

I stumbled back to my seat, clutching my stomach. The baby—our baby—fluttered within me like a fragile butterfly, unaware that its father was in another room, celebrating another woman's child.

* * *

"Is it even mine?" Harrison's voice was ice as he towered over me in our bedroom. "Or is this some desperate attempt to keep me?"

"How can you ask me that?" I struggled to keep my voice steady. "I've never been with anyone but you. You *know* that."

"I don't know anything anymore." He paced, running a hand through his hair—a gesture I once found endearing. "Ada told me about your late-night calls, your secret meetings."

"What calls? What meetings?" Confusion gave way to dawning horror. "Harrison, she's lying to you."

"She showed me the evidence, Viviana." His eyes were cold, distant—the eyes of a stranger. "Phone records. Hotel receipts. She was trying to protect me from finding out this way, but—"

"She's manipulating you!" I cried, desperation clawing at my throat. "I'm carrying your child, Harrison. *Your* child."

"Prove it." He pulled out his phone. "I've already scheduled a paternity test. Until then, I'm freezing your accounts. If you're so eager to play these games, you can do it without my money."

As he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, I sank to the floor, one hand protectively covering my stomach. The man I'd loved for a decade, the man I'd brought back from the edge of death, was now a cruel stranger bent on destroying me.