Chapter 1

On the flight back to Los Angeles, I recognized her the moment I took my seat.

Selena Weir.

The woman my husband Dominic Falcone called his best friend.

A Twitter influencer with a million followers.

Her face had appeared on Dominic's phone screen countless times. He would like and comment on her latest posts during business trips, sometimes forwarding her video links to me with messages like: "Pretty good stuff, don't you think?"

But she hadn't noticed me at all.

Selena propped up a compact action camera, adjusted the angle, and flashed the lens a practiced smile.

"Hey, babes," her voice was impossibly soft, "my birthday trip is officially over! I'm on my flight back to LA right now, and I can't wait to share everything that happened these past few days!"

From her handbag, she produced a velvet jewelry box. She opened it slowly, revealing a dazzling diamond bracelet inside.

"Look! You'll never guess who gave this to me—he made me promise to keep it a secret. This 'Mr. D' of mine is always so mysterious."

Mr. D. Dominic. My husband.

As for that bracelet... I knew it all too well.

Because in my own jewelry cabinet sat an identical one.

Dominic had given it to me on my birthday.

He had said: "Only two of these exist in the entire country. Nothing less could ever be worthy of you."

Only two in the entire country.

And the other one was on the wrist of his "best friend."

I watched Selena hold the bracelet up to the camera, turning it three hundred and sixty degrees. "He told me there are only two of these bracelets in all of America, and that only this could be worthy of me. I think he's exaggerating a little—it's such an extravagant gift—but he always says I deserve it."

Even the script was identical.

I let out a quiet laugh and drained the ice water from my glass.

Selena was still smiling at the camera. "He's incredibly busy, but he still spent three whole days with me. We went to so many places! I'll have the travel vlog up sometime this week."

Three days ago, Dominic had said he was leaving to negotiate an arms deal.

So that was a lie.

He had simply made up an excuse to take Selena on vacation.

I opened Selena's Twitter profile.

Islands. A yacht. A sunset like molten gold.

The video shifted slightly, and Dominic's profile flickered across the frame—he was raising a glass of wine, the hint of a smile on his lips.

Selena leaned toward the camera and lowered her voice: "He doesn't like being filmed... but I just couldn't help myself."

The comments were a guessing game about his identity, every single one offering congratulations.

"Oh my god, you two are perfect together."

"So happy for you—this is the life you deserve!"

Happy?

I turned that word over in my mind.

Then I tapped the comment box and typed: "So happy for you."

Send.

Posted.

And then—

"Ahhh—!"

Selena shrieked.

Every head in first class turned toward her. Even the flight attendants froze.

She was staring at her phone—she had clearly seen my comment. "I can't believe I forgot to block her."

She murmured the words.

Oh, Selena. There are even more dramatic moments coming—like the fact that I'm sitting right next to you.

I stifled a laugh.

She fumbled to turn off the camera, then carefully slipped the jewelry box back into her bag.

The plane touched down. The cabin doors opened. I gathered my carry-on and headed for the jet bridge.

As I rounded the corner, I heard her voice—pressed low, trembling—on the phone:

"Dominic... what do I do? Victoria commented... she saw it. She must know everything!"

Her words tumbled out, rapid and frantic. "Say something... you'll handle this, right? Think of something..."

I walked past her. She didn't look up.

I got in the car and headed back to the estate.

I pushed through the front door. At the far end of the hallway, the study door stood slightly ajar, and from within came Dominic's voice.

It was a thirty-minute drive from the airport. Their call still hadn't ended.

"Alright, alright, just relax. Stop crying." Dominic was coaxing whoever was on the other end with patient gentleness.

"I didn't mean to snap at you—it's my fault. I won't do it again." His voice grew softer still—a tenderness I had never received. "There, there. I'll take care of it. She won't mind."

She won't mind?

No, Dominic.

It wasn't that I didn't mind. It was simply that, ever since our wedding four years ago, I had seen this scene play out too many times.

I had grown... numb to it.