Chapter 1
It had been five years since James Easton remarried.
By now, the child his new wife gave him was already attending kindergarten.
Yet, nothing in my world had shifted.
Still cramming onto the subway each day, I dragged myself through endless shifts, often not clocking out until ten at night.
There was no glamorous comeback after the divorce.
No wealthy knight in shining armor arrived to rescue me.
The only thing I had left was the quiet tragedy of breathing the same city air as James, yet never once brushing past him.
Until that evening, numb with routine, I emerged from the subway station, only to freeze.
There, parked mere feet away, sat James' car.
*****
Out of nowhere, snowflakes started drifting down from the sky.
I tugged my down jacket tighter around me, trying to hide the exhaustion written all over my face from too many late nights.
I picked up my pace, barely a few steps in.
Suddenly, a woman stormed out of the car behind James, her eyes blazing with fury.
She slapped me so hard I stumbled and hit the ground.
My ears were ringing from the slap.
But even through the buzzing in my head, I could still catch the hushed voices and the mixed looks people were throwing my way.
"Serves her right! Women who shamelessly chase after married men deserve to be taught a lesson!" one of the bystanders muttered.
The cold, wet stain on my pants kept getting bigger as the snow melted into the fabric.
I sat there on the ground, a total mess, ignoring all the judgmental stares around me.
That was James' wife now.
If it had been anyone else in her place, after three months of grinding overtime and going hungry, I would've dragged her down with me, no matter the cost.
But James was standing right there. There was me, the ex-wife he absolutely despised, and the wife he adored. I didn't even have to guess who he'd side with.
Together, they were unstoppable. I couldn't win against them.
Swallowing my pride, I dusted myself off and kept my head down as I turned to leave.
Suddenly, a hand yanked my hood back, throwing me off balance.
Before I could recover, I was slammed against a chest of solid steel.
"Summer, you think you can just walk away without apologizing?" James' voice was icy, his words cutting through the air.
Unbelievable. She hit me, and I was the one who was supposed to say sorry?
But I knew that James always protected his people, no matter what.
Even when they messed up, he'd still defend them.
To him, they were always in the right.
He had a hundred ways to destroy me, and I was powerless to fight back.
"Sorry, I must've missed the road and accidentally ran into your wife's hand," I muttered, half mocking myself.
Maybe I'd just been yelled at by my boss so many times that I'd gone numb.
However, James' expression turned even colder.
He leaned down, and for a moment, when our eyes met, I caught a glimpse of hurt flickering in his gaze.
"Summer, are you really that sure I wouldn't have your back?" he said quietly, his voice almost wounded.
For a moment, I was pulled right back to that day—the day we got divorced.
It all came rushing back: James was desperately begging me not to go.
"I don't care about anything else, Summer. Please, don't leave me," he had pleaded.
If it was that James, the one who would do anything to keep me, I would've believed him if he said he'd protect me.
But now? He had a wife, a son, and a picture-perfect family.
And me, Summer Reed—I was nothing to him now.