She was seventeen weeks pregnant.
She had hidden the pregnancy only because Ethan had been so intensely distant over the last two months that every time she tried to tell him, he looked at his phone, sighed about zoning permits, or turned his back to sleep. She kept waiting for the perfect moment—a moment when he looked at her the way he used to, with warmth and unconditional devotion.
Somewhere deep inside her, a quiet voice had known all along that no perfect moment was ever coming. But she had needed to see his face when he found out. She had needed to know if any part of the man she married still existed beneath the Armani suits and the corporate arrogance.
Then, at 8:47 p.m., the sharp glare of twin headlights swept across the floor-to-ceiling front windows of the foyer.
She had smiled despite herself, wiping her hands on a linen towel, stepping out to greet her husband on their anniversary.
Then the front door clicked open.
Two distinct sets of footsteps entered the hallway—one heavy and familiar, the other light, confident, clicking sharply against the imported Italian marble tiles.
Ethan appeared first, loosening his tie with an irritated flick of his wrist.
“Grace,” he said, his tone flat, entirely devoid of warmth or recognition of the date.
She looked past him, her eyes landing on the woman standing in the doorway.
“Who’s she?” Grace asked, her voice dangerously calm.
Lauren answered before Ethan could even open his mouth.
“Lauren Pierce.”
Grace already knew the name, of course. Senior acquisition consultant. Thirty-two years old. Recently divorced from a prominent uptown plastic surgeon. And the recipient of three hundred and twelve messages exchanged with Ethan over the last six weeks, according to the monthly family telecom bill she had pulled from the mail pile.
Ethan tossed his leather briefcase onto the console table with a sharp thud.
“Lauren is working with me on the Southgate commercial acquisition,” Ethan said, avoiding her eyes as he walked toward the bar cart to pour himself a scotch. “Things ran late at the firm. We had to review the zoning appeals before the city council meeting tomorrow morning.”
Grace stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. “At nine o’clock on our wedding anniversary?”
Lauren smiled, stepping further into the entryway, her gaze sweeping over the grand, expensively decorated foyer with the detached appraisal of an owner inspecting property she intended to acquire.
“Some professional relationships don’t keep office hours, Mrs. Walker,” Lauren replied, her voice smooth, dripping with patronizing condescension. “If Ethan wants to close the biggest deal of his career, sacrifices have to be made. Surely you understand that. A man in his position can’t afford to be anchored by domestic distractions.”
