Chapter 1
After five years as Harley Frost's mistress, I finally became his wife.
The woman who once tore into me for knowingly being the other woman signed the divorce papers with a calm that was almost eerie.
As she was about to leave, she asked me lightly, "Do you believe in karma?"
I laughed.
If karma really existed, I wouldn't be the one Harley married.
She only had herself to blame. She let herself become a nagging, resentful housewife, always wallowing in self-pity. In the end, she just couldn't hold onto her man.
Once I officially became Harley's wife, I didn't slack off for a second.
I kept up my fitness routine, took good care of myself, and never skipped my beauty appointments.
Even after seven years of marriage, Harley still couldn't get enough of me.
Even her kids, Adam and Nina Frost, were attached to me. They were always all over me, as if their mother never existed.
I always figured karma was just something losers whined about when their luck ran out.
Then today, I pulled a pink curl from Harley's belt.
*****
Harley was obsessed with my long, silky hair.
Back when we were dating, whenever something was bothering him, he'd bury his face in it.
Just the faint scent of it could calm him down.
He never had any interest in those flashy, artificial hair colors.
So ever since I got together with him, I'd kept up a regular hair care routine—never bleaching or coloring it, never doing anything that might ruin its shine.
For 12 years, my hair stayed glossy and smooth.
But now, there was this one pale pink hair.
It was tangled in his belt, right against his waistline. The placement felt almost intimate.
I could almost picture the exact position they had been in.
"What's wrong? You've been out here on the balcony for a while." Harley's voice came from behind me.
"It's pretty windy. Don't catch a cold," he added.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin settling on my shoulder with practiced ease.
His movements froze when he saw the hair between my fingers.
The next second, he flicked it casually with his long finger, and it drifted down to the floor.
"Let's go inside. It's cold out here," he said, acting like nothing had happened at all.
I stood there, frozen, waiting for him to say something. But he just stayed silent.
"Don't you have anything you want to say to me?" I finally asked.
Harley looked taken aback, clearly not expecting me to press him.
He stared at me for a while. "Probably just got on me at some dinner," he replied, his voice still completely casual.
"An accident, huh?" I shot back.
I'd already smelled perfume on his collar that wasn't mine.
And I found that Barbie-pink lipstick jammed in the crack of the passenger seat.
I knew Harley's circle. There were always women like that, trying to use dirty tricks to get ahead.
But they were beneath him. He never even gave them a glance.
But now, this kind of trash was showing up right in front of me, bold as day.
I couldn't help but scoff. "Guess those low-lives find it pretty easy to get close to you."
Harley clicked his tongue.
But the word "low-lives" seemed to hit a nerve with him.
He looked at me, a hint of mockery glinting in his eyes.
"What, already forgotten where you came from?" he shot back.
I stood there, frozen, like I'd just been slapped in the face.
My face was burning.
I looked up at Harley in disbelief. He just stared back down at me.