Chapter 2
We were in it together back then.
But now, it felt like I was the only one left drowning in the mess, unable to scrub the dirt off, no matter how hard I tried.
"Janice, don't start," Harley said.
He leaned in, his warm breath intimately brushing my ear, but every word was as cold as ice.
"Can't you just be a good wife to me and stay in your place?" he murmured.
With that, he let go of me and walked away without so much as a glance back.
The candles on our seventh anniversary cake were still glowing on the table.
Harley had just gotten back from two weeks overseas for work, and we hadn't seen each other for two weeks.
I'd been begging him for days, acting cute, trying to get him to come home. He finally agreed to put a major project on hold just to spend time with me.
The wind picked up suddenly. The candlelight flickered, like it might go out any second.
My phone dinged a few times.
They were messages from Colin Evert, the private investigator I'd hired a few days ago.
He wrote: [Chloe Linwood, 23 years old.]
[She got into Huxley Corporation three years ago without any interviews, straight into the CEO's office as his secretary.]
[Mrs. Frost, Huxley Corporation seems to be one of Mr. Frost's subsidiaries.]
[She's living in Eastside Estates. Here's her contact info...]
Almost without thinking, I dialed the number.
A lively call waiting tone played on the other end.
I froze. It was the couple's ringtone. The one that was meant to pair with Harley's.
Back when we first started dating, I'd pestered him to set the matching couple's ringtone on his phone—the one that would pair with mine.
He was always so indulgent with me, like nothing was off limits, but that time, he actually said no.
His excuse? "Babe, this number's for work too."
To make it up to me, he bought me a bunch of limited-edition designer bags.
Now, that cheerful, girly voice kept looping on the other end.
Jealousy surged up, burning in my chest and tightening my throat. My fingers trembled as the call finally connected.
I didn't say a word, and the person on the other end stayed silent too.
The silence stretched for dozens of seconds, until she suddenly let out a soft laugh.
Chloe's voice was laced with smug certainty. "So, you finally couldn't help yourself?"
That tone, those words—they were all too familiar.
Eight years ago, when Harley's ex-wife, Olivia Cruz, confronted me for the first time, calling me shameless and landing a slap right across my face, I just smiled at her.
I said, "So, Mrs. Frost, can't keep your composure?
"But honestly, you look downright ugly right now.
"No wonder Harley wouldn't show me your photo."
Olivia shook with rage, her saggy cheeks and flabby waist trembling right along with her.
Just picturing that twisted, ugly, and aged face made me lower my head a bit.
In the dark screen, my own flawless, perfectly kept face stared back at me.
Even in my thirties, my face was still firm and youthful.
I took a deep breath, keeping my voice steady. "You've been waiting for me? Fine. Let's talk."
Chloe had been itching to provoke me, but seeing how calm I was, she just sounded bored now.
"Sure," she replied.
See, Olivia? Not all Mrs. Frosts are created equal.
Even if I had to deal with the same mess you did, Olivia, I'd still come out on top.
When Olivia came after me back then, she was like a wild animal, just lashing out everywhere, losing control.