Chapter 2

I didn't sleep that night.

I lay in the guest bedroom — the one I'd been sleeping in since our wedding night, because Dominic had made it clear from the start that sharing a bed wasn't part of the contract — and stared at the ceiling, my hand pressed flat against my stomach.

I could hear them talking through the walls. Not the words, just the murmur of voices — his low, hers soft. They talked for four hours.

At 2 a.m., I heard laughter.

Dominic never laughed with me.

By morning, I had made a decision. I would tell him about the pregnancy, request an early termination of the contract, and leave. Clean. Simple. No drama.

I found him in the kitchen, which was already unusual. Dominic didn't cook. He didn't even make his own coffee. But there he was, standing at the stove, making eggs.

"Good morning," I said carefully.

He didn't turn around. "Vivienne likes her eggs scrambled with chives. Do we have chives?"

Something inside me cracked, but I held it together.

"Second shelf. Behind the dill."

He found them without thanking me.

I poured myself a glass of water and sat at the island, watching him move around the kitchen with an energy I'd never seen before. He was lighter. Almost happy.

Because of her.

"Dominic, I need to talk to you about our arrangement."

"Not now, Elena." He plated the eggs carefully, garnishing them like he was presenting to a Michelin judge. "Vivienne's been through hell. She was held captive for two years. I need to focus on getting her settled."

Held captive. The words should have made me feel sympathy, and part of me did. But the larger part of me — the part that had spent sixteen months cooking his meals, attending his galas, smiling for his cameras, and slowly, stupidly falling in love with him — felt something else entirely.

Invisible.

"It's important," I pressed.

"I said not now." His voice was sharp. Final. The CEO voice. The voice that made boardrooms fall silent.

I clenched my jaw and nodded.

Vivienne appeared in the doorway wearing one of Dominic's shirts, her hair perfectly tousled, looking like a magazine cover even at 7 a.m. She glided past me to Dominic, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"You remembered," she whispered, looking at the eggs.

"I never forgot," he said softly.

I picked up my water glass and left the kitchen. Neither of them noticed.

In the elevator, I pulled out my phone and texted my best friend, Mara.

Me: I need to see you. Today.

Mara: What happened?

Me: His dead wife came back to life.

Mara: WHAT

Me: And I'm pregnant.

My phone rang immediately. I declined the call. I couldn't talk right now. If I opened my mouth, I would either scream or cry, and I refused to do either in this building, where every doorman and security guard reported back to Dominic.

When I reached the lobby, the concierge stopped me.

"Mrs. Cross, Mr. Cross asked me to inform you that tonight's charity gala has been moved to the Grand Meridian. He'd like you to wear the navy Valentino."

I almost laughed. He couldn't spare five minutes to talk to me, but he had time to pick out my dress.

"Tell Mr. Cross I'll be there."

I walked out into the cold morning air and hailed a cab.

As I climbed in, my phone buzzed with a notification. A gossip blog. The headline made my blood freeze.

DOMINIC CROSS'S FIRST WIFE VIVIENNE SPOTTED ALIVE — IS HIS CURRENT MARRIAGE A SHAM?

Beneath it was a photo taken last night through our penthouse window. Dominic and Vivienne, standing close, his hand on her face.

The comments were already flooding in.

"The real wife is back. The contract bride needs to go."

"He never loved the second one. Everyone knew."

"Vivienne is so much more elegant. Elena was always just a fill-in."

Thousands of strangers confirming what I already knew — I was temporary. I had always been temporary.

The cab driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. "You okay, miss?"

"Fine," I lied, shoving the phone into my bag.

But my hand found its way back to my stomach, and I thought: You're not temporary. You're the most real thing I have.

Tonight at the gala, I would tell Dominic the truth.

And then I would walk away.