Chapter 1

Three years into Julian Sterling's affair, Lily Ashford had finally become the wife he always wanted.

She no longer drove to hotels in the middle of the night to catch him in the act. She no longer interrogated him about where he'd spent the night. She didn't resort to hurting herself to hold onto his drifting heart.

She was as quiet as the least remarkable ornament in the mansion — soundless, still, causing no trouble.

Then one afternoon, the hospital called, the voice urgent.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Sterling, Julian Sterling's wife? He's been involved in a serious car accident and requires emergency surgery. A family member must come immediately to sign the consent forms."

Lily held her phone, her gaze drifting to the television screen.

The local news was broadcasting: "A multi-vehicle collision occurred on the coastal highway this afternoon. Julian Sterling, CEO of Sterling Group, was among those involved. Witnesses report that Mr. Sterling used his own body to shield his companion, Ms. Scarlett Whitmore, at the moment of impact, sustaining severe injuries while Ms. Whitmore escaped with only minor ones. Mr. Sterling's actions speak volumes about his devotion to Ms. Whitmore. Speculation is mounting that the position of Mrs. Sterling may soon change hands…"

The camera panned across the wreckage and caught a distant, blurred but familiar figure strapped to a stretcher.

Lily watched, her eyes like still water — not a single ripple.

Then she lifted the phone and spoke softly.

"You have the wrong number."

She ended the call. The television screen went dark.

A week later, Julian came home.

A strip of gauze still clung to his temple, and his complexion was pale, but it did nothing to diminish that face of his — almost offensively handsome, carrying his habitual reckless arrogance.

When he walked through the door, Lily was curled on the sofa reading a novel, a warm cup of milk on the side table.

Looking at her there — so utterly unbothered — and thinking of the sleepless nights he'd endured in the hospital, not even a phone call from her, Julian felt a surge of rage.

"Lily!" He strode toward her, voice low and rough with barely-leashed fury. "You knew I was in an accident?!"

Lily turned a page without looking up. "Yes."

"You knew?" Julian stared at her, incredulous. "You knew and you didn't come to sign the forms? Didn't come to take care of me? Didn't even bother to show up? Lily, I'm your husband!"

Lily finally looked up. Her expression was calm, even faintly puzzled.

"Wasn't that what you said? That I wasn't to call myself your wife in public, wasn't to appear in front of you, because it would upset Scarlett. I did as you asked. How is that wrong now?"

She paused, then added with the seriousness of someone reviewing a work procedure: "Maybe you could put together a list of requirements. I'll follow it — saves us both the trouble of guessing."

Julian's throat tightened as if something had lodged itself there.

He stared at her, at that slight frown of a woman genuinely trying to figure out how to do better, and the rage inside him dissolved like ice doused with cold water — leaving only a bone-deep chill and something he couldn't quite name: panic.

"Lily, you…" His voice was dry. "What happened to you?!"

Lily frowned slightly, seemingly even more confused. "What's happened to me? I don't check up on you, I don't cause scenes. When you brought Scarlett home I moved to the guest room. When you bought her handbags I helped you choose the styles. I've done everything you asked, Julian. What exactly are you still not satisfied with?"

He had no answer.

Because she was right. Wasn't this exactly what he'd wanted? A wife who stayed in her lane, caused no drama, gave him all the room he needed to love someone else.

So why — now that she'd actually done it — did he feel so hollow?

His phone rang.

Scarlett's name flashed across the screen, her pouty-faced selfie next to it.

He glanced at Lily. She had already dropped her eyes back to her book. As if she hadn't heard a thing.

He hesitated, then answered.

"Julian!" Scarlett's sweet, soft voice spilled from the receiver. "I just finished my thesis — I can finally give you my full attention! I bought the outfit you mentioned last time, the black one with the lace trim. I'm home waiting for you~"

The implication was unmistakable. Julian's heart skipped a beat. He looked at Lily again.

But there was nothing on her face. No anger. No embarrassment. Not even the faintest flicker of displeasure.

Instead, she stood up, pulled open a drawer, and produced a handful of unopened condom boxes, pressing them into his hands.

"You should go. And here — we never got around to using these. No point leaving them to waste. Take them to Scarlett."

She considered for a moment, then added, almost thoughtfully: "Of course, you don't have to use them. If Scarlett can give you a child, all the better."

Julian's mind went blank.

Shock. Disbelief. Absurdity. And a sharp, searing sting that swept through him all at once.

She was handing him their things — to use with another woman? She was practically blessing another woman to bear his child?

"Julian?" Scarlett's voice chirped from the phone. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

He snapped back, fumbling to end the call.

He stood there gripping the cold boxes, his knuckles white, his chest heaving.

"I get it now," he said, seizing on an explanation, his voice hardening into something that was almost contemptuous. "Lily, this is your little game — playing hard to get to make me come crawling back. I've told you. I love Scarlett now. Whatever you're trying, it won't work."

Lily looked at him the way someone looks at a child who refuses to listen — worn out, patient, faintly resigned.

"If that's what you'd like to believe," she said quietly, "then believe it."

"Go on. Don't keep Scarlett waiting. I'm fine here. You don't need to rush back."

And then, before Julian could speak another word, she reached out and gave him a gentle push — right out the door.

"Lily! You—"

Slam.

The door closed cleanly in his face.

Julian stood in the hallway, the boxes burning in his grip, fury and a hollow, nameless dread churning in his chest.

She'd pushed him out. To go be with Scarlett.

"This manipulation won't work on me!" he shouted at the door.

He kicked the wall hard, then stalked off into the dark.

Inside, Lily leaned against the cold door for a long moment.

Only after she heard the car engine start and fade away did she finally step back into the living room.

She picked up her phone and dialed.

"Attorney Hartley? It's Lily. I wanted to check — how far along are the divorce proceedings? When can I have the certificate in hand?"