Chapter 1

At the company's annual party, Abby grabbed the mic and shouted at me, "Heard you were kept by some spoiled rich kid back in college. How much did you rake in every month?"

The whole room went dead silent, and every pair of eyes was on me.

I just smiled and coolly reached for another mic. "Yep, that spoiled rich kid? He's your husband now," I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, Abby's face went ghostly pale.

And her husband, the biggest investor in our company, was standing not far away, drink in hand, giving me a look I couldn't quite read.

*****

Glasses clinked and laughter echoed through the annual party, while crystal chandeliers threw out a dazzling, almost artificial light across the room.

The air was saturated with the mix of pricey perfume, food, and booze, washing over everyone and leaving their faces blurred in the haze.

I'm Emily Berger, manager of the elite team in investment banking.

Right now, I was dressed in a striking red velvet gown, standing amidst a sea of glamorous guests.

In the middle of all the chatter, a sharp female voice sliced right through the pretend harmony. "Emily, I've been wanting to ask you something forever."

It was Abby, my colleague and an old college friend, clutching the mic with that innocent smile painted on her face.

Abby was wearing a white chiffon dress, and with her doe-eyed, helpless expression, she looked every bit the delicate little flower.

The music cut out, and everyone's eyes locked onto me like spotlights.

My hand stayed steady around my champagne glass. "Say it," I said, my voice cool and steady.

Abby's smile got even sweeter, but her words cut like a knife. "Heard you were some spoiled rich kid's sugar baby back in college? We're all dying to know, how much did you rake in every month?"

Abby practically spat out "sugar baby," stretching the word out and making sure everyone heard the venom in her voice.

"Wow, oh my god!" A few mocking jeers and a wave of shocked gasps swept through the crowd.

Everyone's eyes turned, from polite admiration to naked curiosity, contempt, and gleeful gloating.

I could feel countless stares crawling over me like greasy insects.

This was exactly what Abby wanted, to socially destroy me in front of the whole company and all our partners.

I didn't even bother looking at her. My eyes skipped past the crowd and landed right on the man standing not far away.

Josiah was rocking a perfectly tailored black suit, standing tall with a glass of red wine in hand, just silently watching everything.

His brow was slightly furrowed, and his eyes held a mess of emotions I couldn't even begin to untangle, shock, curiosity, but not even a flicker of wanting to stand up for me.

Why should he, anyway? I was just the ex, and Abby was the one he'd married for real.

It was like a cold needle stabbing right into my heart, barely there, but sharp enough to make me flinch.

I looked away and just smiled.

The whole room was waiting to see me break down, make excuses, or just look like a total mess.

But I wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. I reached for the mic the host was holding, cool and collected, even though my fingertips felt icy cold.

"Yeah," I replied. I owned it.

The whole place blew up, and even Abby was stunned. Bet she never saw me owning up that fast.

I stared right at her self-satisfied smirk, my voice echoing through the mic, every word landing in the hall like a bomb. "Guess what? That rich kid? He's your husband now, Josiah."

If Abby's question was just a pebble tossed into a lake, my answer was a full-on depth charge.

The whole world went dead silent. It was a silence so thick it felt like the world had stopped.

The air froze, and everyone's face was locked in place.

I saw it crystal clear. Abby's sweet smile vanished in a heartbeat, her face turning ghostly pale, eyes wide with shock and fear.

Her lips quivered, like she wanted to say something, but not a single word came out.

Tears filled Abby's eyes in seconds, making her look like she was the victim of some massive injustice. She was really milking it.

Josiah's grip on his wine glass faltered, and a splash of red wine soaked the cuff of his pricey white shirt.

He locked eyes with me. Those eyes I'd kissed a thousand times, now raging with a storm of shock, disbelief, and a pain buried deep that I caught in that look.

I met his gaze, a mocking smile curling at my lips. Then, I set the mic down on the nearest table with a soft, crisp tap.

In the dead silence, that sound cut through the room, clear as day.

I turned and walked away.