Chapter 2

Water dripped down their faces, soaking into the white sheets and spreading into a dark, damp stain.

Brooke Davis bolted upright. Her wet hair clung to her face. She wiped her eyes, glaring at me.

"Chloe, you—"

"Who gave you permission to act so familiar with me?"

I slammed the glass back onto the nightstand. The sharp clinking sound of glass hitting wood echoed in the quiet room.

Brooke turned her tearful eyes to Ethan Miller. She bit her lower lip, holding back tears until they finally spilled over, dropping onto the sheets one by one.

I had to admit, she looked pretty when she cried.

I used to think she was pitiful.

Now, she just made me sick.

Ethan sat up too. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, and a few damp strands of hair fell across his forehead.

He wasn't as messy as Brooke, but his face was incredibly dark, his jaw clenched tight like a rock.

"Chloe Hale, have you lost your mind?!"

"I've lost my mind?"

I looked down at them. "I came back early from a business trip, opened my own bedroom door, and found my husband in bed with another woman. How should I react? Should I smile, say sorry for interrupting, and close the door?"

Brooke’s voice drifted over, soft, trembling, and choked with tears. "Chloe, we really didn't do anything. We were just talking late last night, and I..."

"And you what?" I snapped, turning to her.

She flinched and shrank back toward Ethan.

"Talking until 2:00 AM wasn't enough for you? You had to bring the conversation into my bed?"

"I didn't mean to..."

"Then how did you end up here? Did you walk in yourself? Or were you sleepwalking?"

Brooke bit her lip, her tears falling even faster.

Seeing her cry, Ethan’s frown deepened so much it could have crushed a coin.

He reached out, patted her shoulder comfortingly, and then glared at me with pure accusation in his eyes.

"That's enough! Brooke had too much to drink last night. I didn't feel safe letting her drive back alone, so I told her to sleep in the guest room. She just walked into the wrong room. You're overreacting."

Our apartment has three bedrooms. The master bedroom is at the very end of the hallway, and the guest room is at the opposite end.

Between them are the study and the bathroom.

She walked into the wrong room?

I stared at him, suddenly feeling like I was looking at a complete stranger.

After three years of marriage, I thought I knew him.

I knew he was busy with work, I knew he hated nagging, and I knew he had a girl best friend he grew up with.

But I didn't know he could lie through his teeth with such confidence.

"Ethan, are you seriously telling me she just walked into the wrong room?"

His eyes flickered with a brief moment of guilt, but he quickly recovered. "What else could it be? What are you implying?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Brooke sobbed, chiming in, "Ethan, forget it. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come. I'll just leave..."

She pulled back the blanket to get out of bed. The moment she did, I noticed she was wearing a men's oversized t-shirt.

I recognized that shirt.

It was the birthday gift I bought for Ethan last month.

Now, it was on Brooke, the collar loose and sliding off her shoulder, revealing her bare collarbone.

My gaze locked onto the shirt. My hands clenched into tight fists.

Ethan followed my gaze, and his expression finally turned uneasy.

"About that... her clothes got dirty yesterday, so I let her borrow one of mine."

"Oh," I nodded slowly. "Her clothes got dirty, so you lent her my birthday gift to you?"

"You bought it for me, so it's mine. Who I lend it to is my business!"

He said this so righteously, tilting his chin up as if he truly believed he had done nothing wrong.

I stared at him for three seconds.

And then, I laughed.

"Fine. Your business."

I turned, walked into the walk-in closet, and opened a drawer. I pulled out a jewelry box.

Inside was a Cartier necklace. I had bought it last month, planning to give it to him for our upcoming anniversary.

I wouldn't be needing it anymore.