Chapter 1

It had been nine years since I'd gotten entangled with the one and only Brad Hamilton.

His mistress stormed into my birthday party, blathering on about true love and demanding I sign divorce papers to make them happy.

Brad stood there, stone-faced, expecting me to do what I always did: clean up the mess his latest flavor of the month had made.

But that day, something in me snapped.

I stood up, smiled at him, and said, "I'm going to get some air in the garden."

Brad barely registered it, probably figuring I was going to sneak off to cry.

But an hour passed, then two, then three, and I didn't come back.

He went looking for me.

All he found in the garden was a half-smoked cigarette and a ring.

He knew.

I wasn't coming back.

...

Five years into our marriage, Brad had a new flame: a delicate, mesmerizing ballet dancer.

Her name was Seraphina Dubois.

People told me Brad had been captivated the moment he saw her, mesmerized by her graceful movements, like a moonlit sprite.

He kept the girl hidden away, like a prized treasure, refusing to let anyone see her.

Including me.

But now, Seraphina showed up at my doorstep. Her eyes were red-rimmed, filled with accusation. "Mr. Hamilton doesn't love you anymore. He loves me. Don't you feel cruel, clinging to a marriage that's clearly over?"

"We're truly in love," she sobbed. "Please, just sign the papers and let us be happy."

I found it all laughable.

"True love? You're sleeping with another woman's husband, and you don't feel ashamed?"

Seraphina's face went white, but then she burst into even more tears. "Yes, I know. I'm awful. I shouldn't have. But love isn't a choice!

"I just want to be with the person I love. I'm so in love with Mr. Hamilton, and I don't want to be apart.

"Can't you just let us be together?"

Her words were absurd and naive.

But Brad seemed to think she was adorable and brave. He gently wiped away her tears and soothed her, "There, there, darling. Don't cry. I'll be with you tonight."

The room went silent.

He was publicly taking her side, making a spectacle of my humiliation.

In the past, when other women had come to me, Brad would make their lives a misery.

He'd warned them: "Stella Maxwell is my wife. No one disrespects her."

But today, Seraphina had ruined my birthday, and Brad was indulging her. He even sent his secretary to take her home. Then, he walked over to me, his voice low. "Don't worry, Stella. I won't let her cause a scene again."

So, don't you dare do anything to her.

He was warning me.

I didn't immediately agree. Brad frowned slightly, his eyes as cold as ice. "Stella, Seraphina is young and doesn't know any better—"

He was making excuses for her.

"I understand. Don't worry," I cut him off, nodding.

Brad's expression softened slightly. He reached for my hand, but I instinctively pulled away. Brad's face darkened with annoyance, but I just smiled at him. "I'm going to get some air in the garden."

Brad nodded. "Come back soon. I'll wait for you to cut the cake."

"Okay."

I turned and left. Brad's eyes followed me, but I never looked back. Not once.