Chapter 2

Just then, someone from marketing brought over a tray with the new product display.

Today's big reveal was a limited-edition dessert Chloe had helped design after coming back. Mango cheesecake bites.

When I saw that tray of bright yellow, my whole body went cold.

"Take it away," I said under my breath. My assistant heard me and moved right away.

But the head of marketing gave an awkward smile. "Mr. Shaw wants photos for the press tonight. Mrs. Shaw, you'll need to cut the first slice with him."

I looked up at Andrew. "You know I can't be around mangoes."

He was leaning in, talking to Chloe, but when he heard me, he frowned like I was being difficult.

"It's one photo," he said. "You don't have to taste it. The press is all here. Don't start something tonight."

Those three words were like a hand clamped over my mouth.

I stood up and walked toward the display. I barely touched the tip of the knife to the cake when the hostess standing beside me bumped my arm.

The cream and mango sauce smeared across the back of my hand.

It hit fast. My skin started burning, and my throat closed up tight. I couldn't pull air in.

I dropped the knife and turned to run for the bathroom to wash it off, but my legs gave out. The room tilted, and I went down hard.

Before I hit the floor, I saw Andrew's instinct. He reached for Chloe. Her hot chocolate had spilled, and she was making a fuss about her hand.

I crashed into the marble. All I could hear were screams and the shuffle of feet. Someone kept yelling, "Mrs. Shaw!"

Andrew was the last one to come over. He crouched down, his forehead creased with annoyance. "Evelyn, what kind of act is this supposed to be?"

I was fighting for oxygen, but my brain was clear. I found it all ridiculous.

I pointed at my throat, then at my swollen hand, and then toward the tray of dessert.

He stared at me for a couple of seconds. I finally saw a flicker of worry cross his face. It was way too late.

When I woke up, three hours had passed. The hospital room was quiet except for the hum of the monitors and the sharp smell of rubbing alcohol.

I turned my head. There was a bouquet of white roses on the nightstand. Not the soft purple lisianthus I always told him I loved.

That was Andrew. He spent a fortune on things that looked impressive from a distance. He never cared about the details.

I moved slightly, and the IV tugged at the vein in my hand, a sharp little sting. Through the door, I could hear the low rumble of voices.

"Please, stop blaming yourself," Andrew said. "This wasn't your fault."

Chloe's voice floated in, soft and a little broken. "But it happened at my welcome back party. Everyone's going to think I set her up."

"She knows her own body," Andrew's tone was impatient now. "She knew tonight was important, and she couldn't be bothered to stay out of the way.

"Now every reporter is running a story about trouble in paradise."

I closed my eyes.

Chloe pretended to defend me. Her words were perfectly placed scalpels. "Evelyn probably feels a little threatened now that I'm back in town.

"You know how we girls can be. We overthink. Don't be too hard on her. You've been married so long. It's normal to feel insecure."

Andrew sighed. "If she had half your common sense, we wouldn't be in this situation."

I lay there staring at the ceiling. The ache in my chest didn't hurt anymore. It felt hollow and cold.

It felt like someone had cut open the last five years and shown me there was nothing inside.

When Ryan walked in, my eyes were wide open.

He was a friend from college and the lawyer who handled my personal affairs.

He checked the drip in my arm to make sure it was flowing properly, then looked down at me. "You can cry, you know. You don't have to hold it together for me."

I managed a weak smile. "I don't want to cry."

Ryan glanced at my face and tried for a joke. "Okay. Who are we suing first? You've got that 'burn it all down' look in your eyes."

I kept staring at the ceiling tiles. My voice came out like a whisper. "Ryan. Draw up the divorce papers."

He didn't answer right away. The silence in the room felt heavy.

Then he nodded. "Okay."

I turned to look at him. "And send a notice to the bank and the board tonight. I'm removing myself as a personal guarantor. I won't back Andrew's next round of funding."

Something flickered in Ryan's eyes. Surprise. And then a grim kind of satisfaction. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"What about the stock?"

I looked at the red welt on my hand from the IV and let out a slow breath. "I'm taking back every single thing that's mine. Down to the last penny."

Ryan looked at me for a long moment. Then he reached over, picked up the white roses, and dropped them straight into the trash can with a soft thud.

"Alright then," he said. "Let's make this one hell of a beautiful exit."