Chapter 1

In front of a table full of guests, my husband slapped me hard across the face.

He ordered, "Tell everyone the truth. You're nothing but the other woman."

His mistress sat at the head of the table, sipping red wine with the triumphant smile of a winner.

I clutched my cheek, not letting a single tear fall.

The very next day, a splitting headache brought him to his knees right outside the operating room.

His assistant panicked. "The shrapnel in his brain... Mrs. Grant is the only surgeon in the world who can remove it."

Three days later, I got a call from that same assistant. "He's in critical condition. He just wants to see you one last time."

I stared at my phone, stayed silent for three seconds, and finally replied, "Go ask his true love to save his life."

*****

Jonathan Grant's slap landed with the force of a freight train.

My left cheek went completely numb, and a high-pitched ringing drowned out the room.

The crystal chandelier above me splintered into countless flickering shards of light.

All the chatter from the guests vanished in a heartbeat.

Dead silence.

Jonathan's voice pierced my eardrums like a knife. "Tell everyone the truth right now, Claire. Tell them exactly how you crawled into my bed."

His lover, Sophie Lane, was sitting in the red velvet chair at the head of the table.

She held a wine glass, the red liquid inside looking uncannily like blood.

A perfectly measured, triumphant smile played on her lips.

I was Jonathan's actual wife. Yet there she sat, taking the place that rightfully belonged to me.

Jonathan's finger was so close, it was almost poking my nose.

The disgust and hatred in his eyes were incredibly thick. "Tell them you're the home wrecker who wedged yourself between us."

The guests' stares pricked my skin like thousands of tiny needles.

There was pity, contempt, and above all, a gloating eagerness to watch the drama unfold.

I clutched my burning cheek, my nails digging deep into my palms.

But I did not shed a single tear.

Three years.

A full three years of marriage, over a thousand days and nights.

I gave up my scalpel to cook for him.

I learned to navigate high society just to be the perfect Mrs. Grant.

I drank on his behalf at business dinners until it landed me in the ER.

And my reward was this carefully orchestrated public humiliation.

Somewhere inside my chest, something completely shattered with that slap.

It can never be put back together.

I slowly lowered my hand and met his freezing gaze.

My eyes drifted past him, landing on the beaming Sophie.

She was the true love he held close to his heart.

I was nothing but a laughable, self-righteous stand-in.

I couldn't keep up this act any longer.

I straightened my spine and spoke with absolute clarity, enunciating every single word. "Jonathan Grant. You are free."

I didn't bother to look at his stunned face.

I ignored the uproar that broke out around me.

I turned on my heel and walked out of that gilded cage, step by step.

The sharp clicking of my heels against the marble floor echoed loudly, sounding like a death knell for my three years of absolute stupidity.

Behind me, Jonathan didn't chase after me.

I knew he wouldn't.

His little play wasn't over yet, and his precious true love was still waiting to be comforted.

The moment I stepped out of the banquet hall doors, the night breeze hit my face.

It was freezing.

Yet, it was vastly warmer than the hearts of the people inside.