Chapter 2

James' face darkened instantly, his warm tone turning irritable. "What's that supposed to mean? Emily Lane, you're getting bolder by the day.

"Now you're grilling me about my clients? Who do you think I'm out there busting my ass for? For you and the baby, that's who!"

This was his go-to move: twist everything around to make me look unreasonable. As if asking one simple question was a betrayal of all his hard work.

As I stared at his tight, annoyed expression, the chill in my heart deepened. The James I'd known wasn't like this.

Once, he'd traded his meal fee for a bunch of wildflowers just to make me smile. Now, he used money and empty promises to shut me up.

I said, dropping my gaze to avoid his scrutiny, my voice even softer. "I'm not grilling you. I-It just seems too much of a coincidence. That dress is obviously expensive. You don't want to mix it up with the wrong person, right?"

I folded the red silk dress back into the box, handing it to him. My fingers brushed the cold fabric, and my heart twinged with pain.

James took the box, his expression softening a little. He probably thought he'd intimidated me, or maybe he just didn't want to argue anymore.

He sighed, his tone regaining some of its warmth. "Alright, I overreacted. You're pregnant, and you're prone to overthinking things. That dress cost a pretty penny; I can't afford to mess it up."

He tossed the box on the hallway cabinet like it was just another trivial item, not a bomb waiting to blow up my world.

"Eat the cake before it melts," he said, nodding at the table, then yawned. "I'm gonna hit the shower. I'm dead tired from the trip."

I watched him walk into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing through the room before I finally looked away. My gaze fell on the strawberry shortcake, its bright red strawberries stinging my eyes.

I didn't touch the cake. Standing up, I started tidying his luggage quietly.

Most of the space in his large suitcase was filled with dirty clothes and contract documents. I sorted the clothes into the laundry basket, stacking the papers neatly on the desk.

As I picked up his worn black briefcase, planning to set it in the study, my fingers brushed against a hard edge.

It was a small photo album, half slipping out from a hidden pocket inside the bag. It was the kind that couples loved to carry around, filled with photos of each other.

Against my better judgment, I pulled it out.

The cover was dark blue, understated and simple. However, as I opened the first page, my heart skipped a beat.

In the photo was a young girl with a bright smile, no more than twenty years old, with trendy curly hair and flawless makeup. It was Chloe White, James' new secretary, the one I'd met twice before.

The first time I'd seen Chloe was at James' office. She'd brought in coffee, her eyes lingering on James with admiration and ambition so obvious it was impossible to ignore.

I'd joked with James back then, saying his secretary looked at him like he was more than just her boss.

What had he said? "She's just a fresh grad, never seen much of the world. A little hero-worshipping, that's all. Don't overthink it."

Don't overthink it. How?

My fingers whitened as I gripped the album, flipping to the next page. And the next. Every page was filled with Chloe: resting her chin on her desk at the office, holding a wine glass at a restaurant, smiling brightly among flowers at a scenic spot.

Until I turned to the last page, my breath caught in my throat.

The background looked like a hotel room. Chloe stood in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window, wearing that same bright red silk camisole dress I'd just seen.

The setting sun cast a golden glow over her, making her skin look snow-white and her figure curvy. She turned her head slightly, smiling at the camera. It was a triumphant, provocative smirk.

In the bottom right corner, a small date was printed. Today's date.

With a click, the bathroom door opened.

James stepped out, wrapped in a towel, his hair dripping wet. He saw me standing in the middle of the living room, dazed and numb, holding the photo album, and his face turned ashen with rage and panic.

"What the hell are you doing?" He rushed over in a single stride, snatching the album from my hands, his voice shaking with unprecedented fury. "Who told you to go through my stuff?"

I looked up at the man I'd loved for years, now a stranger to me. Tears finally spilled over, streaming down my face.

My voice trembled uncontrollably. "James, that client's wife... it's Chloe, isn't it?"