“Tonight, we celebrate two things,” my husband’s voice floated through the cool, crisp air of our Lake George weekend cabin. “I am going to be a father… and that useless wife of mine is finally being phased out of our lives.”
I froze behind the heavy oak service door.
My fingers tightened so fiercely around the leather folder pressed against my chest that my knuckles turned white. Inside that folder were the final architectural plans and financing approvals for the Sedona Pines Reserve—a multi-million-dollar eco-resort I had built almost entirely with my own blood, sweat, and sleepless nights over the last four years.
I had navigated the zoning permits. I had courted the investors. I had secured the land. I had endured every agonizing meeting where my husband, Alexander Sterling, flashed his movie-star smile and effortlessly took credit for the labor that was breaking my back.
I had driven four hours from Manhattan to surprise him for the weekend.
But I was the one who received the surprise.
Looking through the crack in the door, I saw Alexander standing on the lantern-lit terrace. Beside him stood his mother, Eleanor Sterling, a woman whose blood ran as cold as the diamonds resting on her collarbone.
And sitting on the plush outdoor sofa, sipping sparkling cider, was Chloe. Alexander’s twenty-five-year-old executive assistant.
The same young woman I had personally hired a year ago because she had walked into the interview with scuffed shoes and a tearful story about needing “just one chance to prove herself.”
Now, Chloe was wearing a tight, cashmere designer dress that stretched snugly over a small, undeniable pregnant belly. Alexander’s hand rested proudly, possessively on her stomach, like a man who had just won a grand prize.
