Chapter 1
At a high-society party in Westfield, Rafael Morales reached out to block a drink meant for his first love.
"Rebecca just flew in and is still jet-lagged. She can't mix alcohol with her allergy meds," he said.
Anthony Russo smiled politely and offered the flute to Rafael instead.
"Care to do the honors then, Rafael?" he said.
Just as Rafael raised the glass, Rebecca nudged his arm.
She mouthed, 'I hate the smell of alcohol on you.'
Rafael let out a soft chuckle, turned to see me, and passed the glass my way. "Sorry, Anthony. I completely forgot I'm on antibiotics.
"My wife can take this one. She can hold her liquor."
I looked up at him.
He completely forgot I had destroyed my stomach lining years ago, entirely from drinking at corporate dinners to help him close deals.
Whatever. It didn't matter. I was going to leave him soon anyway.
*****
Rafael looked annoyed when I hesitated.
He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Anthony is waiting. Don't make a scene."
I gently waved my hand. "My stomach is acting up."
Anthony looked incredibly awkward. "If it's a bad time, we can skip the toast."
He turned to leave.
Rafael stopped him immediately. "Don't be ridiculous. Zoe is just being difficult."
He shoved the glass into my hand. "Her stomach is perfectly fine." He glared at me. "Apologize to Mr. Russo."
Anthony was a major player in Westfield commercial real estate. I couldn't afford to offend him if I wanted to save my family's business.
"Sorry, Mr. Russo. I'll take this one," I said.
Satisfied, Anthony wandered off to mingle.
Rebecca looked up at Rafael with fake concern. "Rafael, does Zoe actually have stomach issues? She shouldn't drink if she's sick."
Rafael smiled and patted her hand. "Not at all. She used to outdrink every executive in Westfield. One glass is water to her."
Before he finished speaking, I covered my mouth and bolted for the restroom.
"Still faking it." Rafael's voice drifted down the hall behind me.
I stared at my exhausted reflection in the restroom mirror as another wave of nausea hit.
I hadn't been able to touch alcohol for a year.
Back then, Rafael's company was closing a massive merger with the Kingsley Group. We attended a celebratory dinner to seal the deal.
Rafael was a lightweight, but the Kingsley CEO wanted to do shots.
Before my family went bankrupt, I was a social butterfly with a high tolerance.
I stepped in for a practically passed-out Rafael, downing everything they poured.
The CEO loved it, and the merger went through smoothly.
I, on the other hand, ended up in the ER with a bleeding ulcer.
The doctor told me I had to quit drinking permanently.
Rafael was right there in the room.
He held my hand, looking completely guilt-stricken. "If I wasn't such a lightweight, you wouldn't have had to do that for me."
He pressed my hand against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Zoe. I hate seeing you like this.
"I made you some oatmeal. It's easy on the stomach.
"I will never forget this, Zoe. Get better soon. You practically own the Morales empire now."
He forgot all of that so quickly.
I wiped my mouth, feeling pathetic.
When I looked up, another face appeared in the mirror.
Rebecca smirked at me. "You really know how to put on a show."
"Do you think gagging a few times will make Rafael pity you?" She inspected her perfect manicure. "Rafael told me everything.
"He said you're dead weight. Your only talent is playing the drinking buddy at corporate dinners."
Was that really what Rafael thought of me?
A cold knot formed in my stomach.
She went on, "Oh right. I heard you two only signed a two-year prenup, and you're already in the mandatory waiting period for the divorce."
She turned toward the door. "Enjoy your last month as a billionaire's wife. You'll be locked out of our circles soon enough."
We were indeed in the divorce waiting period.
I looked down at the sink.
A few weeks ago, right after Rafael heard Rebecca was moving back, he dragged me to his lawyer's office to file the papers.
"Rebecca just got divorced overseas and she's feeling really down. She needs a safe haven here." Rafael had said that while holding the legal documents.
"We grew up together. I just want to show her the filing so she feels secure. It'll give her peace of mind." He spoke rapidly. "Don't worry. We aren't actually getting divorced."
Not actually getting divorced?
I sighed. Then why did he tell her about our two-year contract?
When I walked out, Rafael was leaning against the wall.
He straightened up and walked right over.
"Are you okay?" He grabbed my arm. "I forgot about your stomach. Does it still hurt?"
His genuine concern caught me off guard. "Yeah. It was just one drink. I'm fine."
He smiled, looking relieved. "Let's go home."
He kept explaining as we walked. "Rebecca just got back. I'm only looking after her because our families are old friends. Please don't take it the wrong way.
"She's been living out of the country for years and feels totally lost. She even said she wanted you to show her around."
I was about to nod when Rebecca rushed up to us. She was clutching her stomach in a panic.
"Rafael, my stomach is killing me." Tears welled in her eyes. "Can you take me home?"
Rafael instantly panicked. He dropped my hand instantly, grabbed Rebecca by the arm, and headed for the exit.
Rebecca glanced back over her shoulder and flashed me a triumphant smile.
A few steps later, the whispers from the other guests seemed to snap Rafael back to reality. He remembered the wife he had just abandoned.
He stopped, turned around, and tossed me a foil packet. "Antacids." He squeezed my shoulder. "Wait for me at home. I'll drop Rebecca off and come right back."