Chapter 1 The Third Anniversary

• The candles had burned down to half their size when I finally accepted that my husband was not coming.
• I sat at the end of our long dining table in the red dress Adrian once called his favorite. The steak was cold, the wine had gone warm, the two plates faced each other, and one chair stayed empty.
• I had sent the staff home at five. He had promised me a private dinner for our third anniversary. It was the first promise he had made to me in months.
• At seven-forty, the front door opened.
• I stood so fast that my chair scraped the floor. "You're late."
• Adrian walked in with his coat still on, and his phone gripped in his hand. He did not look at the candles, nor did he look at the table, nor at me.
• "I have to go," he said.
• "Go where?"
• "Vanessa called. She sent me a message saying she cannot do this anymore."
• My heart sank, but not out of fear for her. I knew that kind of message. I had watched her send it on the night of my father's birthday, and again the morning of my exam. Each time, someone ran to her. Each time, she was smiling when I was the one left alone.
• "Tonight," I said softly. "It really has to be tonight."
• "She did not intentionally choose the night, Lauren."
• "It is our anniversary."
• "I know what day it is." He checked his phone again. "I will make it up to you."
• "You said that last year; you said it the year before." I took a step toward him. "Do you know what I did while I waited tonight? I sat here and tried to remember the last time you chose me over something. Anything, but guess what? I could not find one."
• His jaw tightened. "Do not do this."
• "Do you remember our wedding day?" My voice cracked, and I hated it. "You held my hands and promised that I would never have to feel alone again. I believed you. I still believed you until about an hour ago."
• For a moment, something moved in his face. Then it was gone.
• "This is jealousy," he said. "Plain and simple."
• The word hit me harder than a slap.
• "Vanessa grew up with nothing," he went on. "She was passed from house to house. She has been hurt her whole life. You have a family, a home, a husband. You have everything, and you still cannot spare her one night."
• "One night?" I laughed, and it sounded broken. "Adrian, it has never been one night. It was my birthday, it was my mother's funeral lunch, it was the day I got my business license, and you left halfway through the dinner. Every time, I told myself it did not matter. I told myself I was strong enough to take it."
• "You are strong," he said. "That is why I can count on you."
• I stared at him.
• Those words hurt more than anything else he said. He was not saying them to be cruel; he truly believed they were a compliment.
• "So that is all I am to you," I whispered. "The strong one? The one you leave behind because she will survive it."
• "Lauren."
• "Tell me something honestly." I wiped my cheek and was surprised to find it wet. "If Vanessa and I were both drowning, whose hand would you take?"
• He did not answer right away. That silence was my answer.
• His phone buzzed; he looked down at the screen, and his whole face softened. It was a small change, but I saw it. For three years I had waited for him to look at me that way.
• "I have to go," he said, quieter now.
• I could have grabbed his sleeve. A year ago, I would have; I would have begged. “Please, just tonight. Please choose me, just once.”
• This time, I stepped back.
• "Go," I said.
• He frowned, as if he expected more. A fight maybe, tears? A chase?
• When none of it came, uncertainty flickered across his face. Then he turned and walked out.
• The door closed, then his engine started, then faded down the driveway.
• The house went still almost immediately. I let out a heavy sigh I didn't know I was holding in.
• I did not cry like I thought I would, but something inside me had gone calm.
• Slowly, I carried the plates to the kitchen. I blew out the candles one by one, and scraped the cold steak into the trash, because I would not leave it for tomorrow.
• At the sink, I looked at my reflection in the dark window. A tired woman in a red dress looked back. Her lipstick was perfect, so was her hair, but her eyes were not.
• "Happy anniversary, Lauren," I whispered.
• My phone buzzed.
• I expected a message from Vanessa, probably a picture of herself crying with my husband patting her. Instead, a white box with thin gold letters floated across my screen.
• •HUSBAND PRIORITY SYSTEM ACTIVATED.•
• I blinked and tapped the screen, but the box did not move. When I looked away, the words stayed in front of my eyes, as if they were printed on the inside of my eyelids.
• •Host detected: Lauren Bennett.•
• •Event detected: Husband deliberately chose another woman over his wife on a major occasion.•
• •Betrayal level: Significant.•
• My heart pounded. I gripped the sink. "I am tired," I said out loud. "That is all; I am just tired."
• The letters did not disappear; anything thing showed up.
• •Reward calculating...•
• A bright chime rang inside my head, like a game show bell.
• •Reward issued: $1,000,000.•
• I laughed, a short, cracked sound. Stress, I said again, maybe it was the too much wine.
• Then my phone buzzed again, this time it was my bank, in plain black letters.
• ‘Deposit received: $1,000,000.00.’
• I opened the app with shaking fingers. My personal account had held just over four thousand dollars that morning. Now it had seven digits.
• The gold letters appeared again.
• •Note to host: Larger betrayals will bring larger rewards.•
• And then, just as I was starting to believe it, one more line appeared.
• •Your husband is calling Vanessa back right now. Would you like to know what he is about to say?•