Chapter 1

Three years into our marriage, and my husband Michael Reed still hasn't given me the code to our smart lock, let alone let me scan my fingerprint.

Whenever I come home from work, I have no choice but to ring the doorbell and wait for my in-laws or Emily Reed, my sister-in-law, to let me inside.

I left work early today, but no one answered when I rang, and as I was about to call my in-laws, my husband's assistant, Olivia Lane, appeared.

"Why are you standing out here, sis?" she asked. Before I could answer, she pressed her thumb to the lock. "Beep. Access granted." The door clicked open.

Olivia Lane smiled like she owned the place. "Well, don't stand there. Come in."

I looked down at the groceries in my hands. Time to end this marriage.

*****

I followed her in with the groceries. Olivia Lane kicked off her heels, opened the shoe cabinet, and pulled out a pair of pink bunny slippers from the back.

I knew those slippers. They were Emily Reed's. She'd bought them last year and waved them in my face, telling me they were hers and I'd better not touch.

Olivia Lane noticed me still rooted to the spot. She smiled. "Well? Go on, change your shoes."

Without a word, I changed my shoes and carried the groceries to the kitchen.

When I came out, Olivia Lane was already by the study door, the one Michael Reed had installed after his promotion two years ago, saying it held company secrets and I, as an outsider, wasn't allowed in.

I'd never set foot inside.

Olivia Lane tapped a few digits on the keypad. "Click." The door unlocked.

Before pushing it open, she turned back with a smile. "Mr. Reed asked me to grab an urgent file. Take a seat, sis. I'll be out in a sec."

She meant my husband, Michael.

I stared at her in silence as she walked into the room I'd been shut out of for two years.

Less than a minute later, she came out with a blue folder and glanced at her watch. "I've gotta run, sis. Mr. Reed's waiting."

She changed her shoes in a hurry, leaving the study door slightly ajar, just a crack.

My eyes were drawn to that crack. My husband's secrets were hidden behind it.

I walked over, placed my hand on the door, and gave it a gentle push.

The scent of cedar cologne, Michael's signature, filled the air, and everything inside was immaculate.

On the desk, an open book held down a paper with a red header from the Riverside Women's & Children's Hospital.

I walked over and pulled it out. It was a pregnancy ultrasound report.

The name on it was Olivia Lane. My hands trembled as I read the gestational age: eight weeks.

Eight weeks.

Two months ago, Michael came back from a trip and held me tight, saying, "Honey, I'm sorry for the rough years. The doctor says I'm all good now, so we can finally have a baby."

He even showed me a medical report confirming everything was back to normal.

I hugged him, tears streaming down my face.

During our first year of marriage, we went for a pre-pregnancy checkup, and the doctor said Michael had a problem, making it unlikely for us to have our own kids.

To spare Michael's feelings, I took the blame, and my in-laws and Emily gave me plenty of dirty looks for supposedly ending the Reed Family line.

Michael became even more gentle and attentive toward me because of that.

Now Olivia's pregnancy report was in my hand, showing eight weeks, and it all lined up perfectly.

I let out a laugh, but the tears wouldn't stop streaming down my face.

I slipped the report into my pocket.

Michael, you've really outdone yourself.

The digital photo frame glowed, and the picture switched to Michael with his arm around Olivia, both laughing brightly at the beach.