Chapter 1

My husband brought another woman and her four-year-old son on our babymoon—then gave them the first-class seats I had paid for and sent his wife, six months pregnant, to economy.

“Arabella and Julian need the seats together.”

My husband pressed a boarding pass into my hand.

I looked down.

34B. Economy. Middle seat. Beside the lavatory.

Then I looked through the priority gate. Arabella Bellamy stood there in a white linen dress, holding the first-class boarding pass that had been issued in my name.

“Maxwell,” I said, resting one hand beneath my six-month belly, “this is our anniversary trip.”

“And our babymoon,” I added. “I paid for those seats.”

His jaw tightened. “Keep your voice down.”

Four-year-old Julian clung to his leg. Arabella hovered behind them, pale and trembling.

“She called me this morning,” Maxwell said. “Her landlord threw them out. Julian was hysterical. I couldn’t leave them alone.”

“So you brought them on our private vacation?”

“Only because they need somewhere safe.”

Arabella lowered her eyes. “Please don’t fight because of me. I can sit in economy.”

“No.” Maxwell turned to her at once. “You get panic attacks, and Julian can’t be separated from you.”

Then he looked at me.

“You’ll manage, Estelle. You always do.”

The words hurt more than they should have.

Arabella touched his sleeve. “I shouldn’t have called. I just panicked. You’re the only person who always knows what to do.”

Satisfaction flickered across Maxwell’s face.

“You called the right person.”

Her sleeve slid back as she reached for Julian’s passport.

A thin gold bracelet gleamed around her wrist.

I stopped breathing.

Three nights ago, I had found that bracelet inside Maxwell’s car, still nestled in a velvet box.

“Is this for me?” I had asked.

He had snatched it from my hand.

“A gift for a client. Don’t get excited.”

I had laughed, embarrassed by my mistake.

Now Arabella was wearing it.

Maxwell noticed where I was looking. He stepped between us.

“It isn’t what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is.”

“Not here.”

As Maxwell reached for Julian’s passport, I caught sight of the phone in his other hand. The screen was still open to a conversation with Arabella.

The latest message had been sent four nights ago.

I don’t know how I would survive without you. ❤️

Maxwell followed my gaze and locked the screen.

Too late. I had already seen it.

Four nights ago, I had stood barefoot in our bedroom wearing the emerald maternity dress I had bought for our anniversary dinner.

“Do I still look like myself?” I had asked.

Maxwell had barely glanced up from his phone.

“You look fine.”

I had blamed work. Stress. The pregnancy.

Anything except another woman.

The boarding announcement sounded.

Maxwell took Julian’s hand and placed the other against Arabella’s lower back.

“Get on the plane,” he told her softly. “I’ll handle Estelle.”

They moved toward the gate like a family.

I opened the airline app.

My original first-class ticket was there. Beneath it sat the downgrade confirmation.

Modification date: fourteen days ago.

This had never been a morning emergency.

Fourteen days ago, Maxwell had taken my laptop from my hands and kissed my forehead.

“You’ve planned enough,” he had said. “Let me take care of the rest.”

I had thought my husband was finally taking care of me.

He had been removing me from my own anniversary trip.

A flight attendant called my name.

Maxwell glanced back impatiently.

“Are you coming or not?”

I folded the economy boarding pass and slipped it into my bag.

“Yes,” I said.

I was coming.

But somewhere between first class and Seat 34B, my marriage had begun to end.