Chapter 1
42%%%
53 minutes late. I’d been checking my phone obsessively, watching as the candles melted into sad puddles on my birthday cake that no one wanted to cut without Ethan present.
I sat at the head of the private dining room at Carlucci’s, the hottest restaurant in the city with a three–month waiting list, scrolling through my unanswered texts: *Where are you?* Followed by: *Everyone’s waiting. Should we start without you?* My mother sat to my right, nervously reapplying her lipstick for the third time, leaving smudges of red on the rim of her wine glass. My father checked his watch every few minutes, the ice in his whiskey long melted. Across from me, Ethan’s mother Patricia squeezed my free hand, her gold bracelets jangling with each
reassuring pat.
“Traffic must be terrible tonight, sweetie. He’ll be here any minute,” she insisted, though we all sensed something else was keeping him.
Ethan hadn’t slept in our bed for almost three weeks–22 days to be exact. I counted each morning, staring at the untouched pillow beside me, still perfectly fluffed from the housekeeper’s attention. When he did come home, he slept in the guest room, claiming my “snoring” kept him awake–a problem he’d mysteriously developed after five years of marriage.
Seven weeks earlier, he’d casually shown me a photo of Kate at Grand Central, back.
from Chicago.
“Still hot as fuck,” he’d said, not even pretending to lower his voice at our friends‘ dinner party. His eyes had practically undressed her in the photo. “Look at those legs. Chicago winters haven’t done her any damage.”
I remember how my champagne glass froze halfway to my lips, how the room suddenly felt airless. The naked hunger in his eyes made my stomach clench. He’d never once looked at me that way–not even on our wedding night, when he’d mechanically thrust into me for exactly four minutes before rolling away to check his fantasy football scores on his phone, leaving me staring at the ceiling,, empty and unsatisfied.
וד
12:56PM Mon 10 Mar
01
42%
The restaurant’s heavy door swung open with a theatrical bang. Ethan strutted in with Kate pressed against his side, his arm wrapped low around her waist, thumb hooked into the front pocket of her jeans, fingers dangerously close to the junction of her thighs. Every few steps, he’d whisper something in her ear that made her giggle and press closer to him.
My father lurched to his feet, knocking over his whiskey. The amber liquid spread
across the white tablecloth like a Rorschach test. “You miserable son of a-”
My mother yanked him back into his seat with surprising strength. “Harold! Not
here,” she hissed. Not that it mattered. My father’s bark had always been worse than his bite, especially when it came to the Marina family and their influence in
this city.
“Ethan,” my father managed through gritted teeth, “what exactly is the meaning of
this?”
Ethan flashed that perfect orthodontist–crafted smile. He made an exaggerated show of helping Kate to her seat, his hands sliding from her shoulders down her sides, deliberately grazing the sides of her breasts in a move so obvious everyone at the table shifted uncomfortably.
He dropped into the chair beside her, immediately draping his arm across her shoulders, fingers absently playing with her hair, occasionally drifting down to trace her collarbone through her low–cut blouse, making it clear to everyone exactly how familiar he was with her body.
“Dad,” he said, addressing my father with mock surprise, “didn’t Liv tell you? Kate and I were practically engaged before the accident.”
The word “accident” fell like a grenade on the table. My lungs constricted so
painfully I had to focus on not gasping for air.
Patricia’s face transformed from confused to horrified in seconds. “Ethan James Marina. This is beyond inappropriate. It’s Olivia’s birthday.”
Ethan’s smile only widened as he deliberately placed his hand on Kate’s slightly rounded belly, fingers splayed possessively beneath her navel, thumb making small circles that seemed designed to remind everyone exactly what had been
hannanina
2/4
12:56 PM Mon 10 Mar
42%
01
between them.
“Perfect timing, actually. The whole family’s already here.” His eyes locked with mine, cold and challenging. “She’s eighteen weeks along. What should we do, Liv?” Kate kept her head down, but I caught her stealing glances at me from under her long lashes. Her shoulders were tense despite her attempt to appear relaxed. Her perfectly manicured nails drummed nervously on the table, and she kept biting her lower lip, sometimes leaning into Ethan’s touch like she needed reassurance that he’d protect her from whatever was coming.
Under the table, I’d clenched my fists so tightly that my nails had broken the skin of my palms. I could feel warm blood pooling in my cupped hands, the metallic smell rising as I uncurled one finger at a time. Yet my face remained completely expressionless–a survival skill perfected through years of Ethan’s public
humiliations.
Ethan sprawled in his chair like he owned the restaurant, legs spread wide, one arm still draped possessively around Kate. He picked up a piece of bread, tore it apart without eating it, and watched me with the detached interest of someone observing an animal at the zoo.
“You know what needs to happen now, right?” His voice was quiet but carried perfectly in the hushed room.
My father slumped in his seat, suddenly fascinated by the whiskey stain spreading across the tablecloth. My mother fiddled with her pearls, eyes downcast.
Every person at that birthday dinner–my college roommate, Ethan’s brother, our married friends, even the coworkers I’d invited in a desperate attempt to look like I had a life outside my empty marriage–stared at me, waiting for the breakdown they’d been expecting for years.
Not one of them spoke up. Not even Patricia, who’d once sworn she loved me like the daughter she’d never had.
I looked down at my wedding ring–the same ring that had felt like a shackle on the day he’d slid it onto my finger, when I’d been too consumed by guilt to say no. I
12:58PM Mon 10 Mar
42%
01
twisted it once, then again, feeling it loosen. Something inside me loosened too, a knot finally coming undone.
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice stronger than I’d expected.
20
Add to Library – Read Anytime
