Chapter 1

• Clara Bennett had always pictured her life turning out perfect. She wasn’t the type to dream big about fancy cars or huge houses—she just wanted something simple. A happy wedding day, a little family, and a guy who loved her back. For years, that guy had been Ethan Carter. He was everything she’d ever hoped for: sweet, funny, and someone she could count on. They’d been together for three whole years, and Clara thought nothing could ever tear them apart.
• She’d been so wrong.
• That night, Clara was humming to herself as she climbed the stairs to Ethan’s apartment building. In her hands, she carried a small white box with a chocolate mousse cake inside—his favorite. She’d spent hours picking it out from the little bakery downtown, the one with the red awning and the bell that jingled when you walked in. Lately, Ethan had been acting strange. He was always busy with work, always too tired to hang out. She missed him—missed the way they used to laugh over dumb movies or share fries at the diner. So tonight, she’d decided to surprise him. Maybe a sweet treat would remind him of how much she cared.
• The air outside was cold, stinging her cheeks as she climbed the steps. Her stomach fluttered with excitement, but there was a little nervousness mixed in too. She couldn’t wait to see his face light up when he saw the cake. But when she got to his door, something didn’t feel right. It was cracked open just a little, letting soft music spill out into the hallway. Clara frowned. Ethan had told her he was stuck at work late again. So why was there music? Why were the lights on, dim and warm, like someone was home?
• Maybe he’d gotten off early, she thought. Maybe he felt bad for brushing her off so much and had planned something sweet for her instead. A little smile tugged at her lips as she imagined him waiting inside with flowers or a goofy grin. She pushed the door open wider and stepped in.
• The second she did, her smile vanished.
• The apartment smelled like vanilla—warm and cozy from candles flickering on the coffee table. But there was something else too. A sharp, flowery scent. Perfume. Not hers. Clara’s heart started to beat faster. She didn’t wear anything like that—hers was light and fruity, like apples. This was heavy, expensive, the kind of smell that clung to someone who wasn’t her.
• Then she heard it. A laugh. Soft and girly, coming from down the hall.
• Clara’s chest tightened. Her hands gripped the cake box a little harder. No, she told herself. This isn’t what it sounds like. Maybe he’s just watching TV. Maybe it’s a friend stopping by. She wanted so badly for it to be anything but what her gut was screaming at her.
• She took a step toward the bedroom, then another. Each one felt like walking through mud—slow and heavy. Her sneakers squeaked on the hardwood floor, but she barely noticed. All she could hear was her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She didn’t want to see what was ahead. She didn’t want to know. But she couldn’t stop herself either.
• When she reached the bedroom door, it was half-open. She pushed it with shaky fingers and looked inside.
• Her world broke apart.
• Ethan was there, on the bed. But he wasn’t alone. Another woman was with him—straddling him, her arms looped around his neck. Their lips were pressed together, hungry and close, like they couldn’t get enough of each other. And that woman wasn’t just anyone. It was Sofia. Clara’s best friend since middle school. The one she’d cried to about boys, the one she’d shared secrets with, the one she’d trusted with everything.
• The cake box slipped from Clara’s hands. It hit the floor with a soft thud, the sound cutting through the quiet like a gunshot. Chocolate mousse splattered across the wood, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
• Ethan jerked his head up, his eyes going wide. “Clara?”
• Sofia gasped and pulled back, her face turning white as a ghost. “Clara, I—”
• “No,” Clara whispered. Her voice was so small she barely heard it herself. “No, this isn’t real. This can’t be happening.”
• Tears stung her eyes, hot and sharp, but she blinked them back hard. She wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of them. Her hands balled into fists, her nails biting into her palms as she tried to hold herself together.
• Ethan scrambled off the bed, tugging his shirt down. “Clara, let me explain,” he said, reaching for her.
• She stumbled back like he was poisonous. “Don’t touch me!” she snapped. Her voice came out steadier than she felt.
• “Explain?” she said again, louder this time. “What’s there to explain, Ethan? That you’ve been kissing my best friend? That you’ve been lying to me?”
• Sofia grabbed a sheet, wrapping it around herself like a shield. “Clara, please,” she begged, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
• “Didn’t mean for it to happen?” Clara laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. It was bitter and cold, like something breaking inside her. “You didn’t mean to climb all over my fiancé? You didn’t mean to stab me in the back?”
• Sofia flinched, her big brown eyes filling with tears. Clara almost felt bad—almost. But then she looked at Ethan, and her stomach twisted even more. He didn’t look sorry. He didn’t look ashamed. He just looked… annoyed. Like she was the one ruining his night.
• “Clara, come on,” he said with a sigh. “Don’t make this a big deal. You weren’t supposed to find out like this.”
• She went still. Her breath stopped in her throat. “Weren’t supposed to find out?” she repeated, her voice dangerously quiet. “How long?”
• Ethan shifted, glancing away. He didn’t answer.
• Sofia bit her lip, staring at the floor. “Clara—”
• “How long?!” Clara shouted, her voice cracking with fury.
• Ethan rubbed the back of his neck. “Six months,” he muttered.
• Six months. Half a year. Clara’s knees wobbled, but she locked them in place. Six months of lies. Six months of him smiling at her, telling her he loved her, while he was sneaking around with Sofia. Six months of her planning their future—picking out wedding colors, daydreaming about their honeymoon—while they laughed behind her back.
• Her vision blurred. Pain stabbed at her chest, sharp and deep, like someone had jammed a knife between her ribs. But she wouldn’t let it win. She wouldn’t let them see her fall apart.
• “I hope you’re happy together,” she said, her voice cold as ice. She turned and bolted for the door.
• “Clara, wait!” Ethan yelled after her.
• She didn’t stop. She ran—out of the bedroom, through the living room, past the stupid vanilla candles still flickering like nothing was wrong. She shoved the front door open and stumbled down the stairs, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The cold night air hit her like a slap, but she didn’t slow down. She just kept going, her sneakers pounding the pavement.
• Tears streamed down her face now, hot and unstoppable. She swiped at them with her sleeve, angry at herself for crying. She didn’t want to feel this. She didn’t want to hurt. But it was there anyway—a big, ugly ache that wouldn’t go away.
• Betrayal. That’s what it was. Ethan and Sofia had taken everything she thought was real and smashed it to pieces.
• She made it to the sidewalk, her legs shaking so bad she almost fell. The street was empty, the world spinning around her. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to breathe, trying to think.
• Then tires screeched.
• A black car jerked to a stop right in front of her, so close she jumped back. Before she could figure out what was happening, the door flew open. Hands grabbed her—strong and rough—yanking her inside.
• “Let me go!” Clara screamed, kicking and thrashing. Her arms flailed, but someone pressed a cloth over her mouth. It smelled sweet, too sweet, like candy gone wrong. Her head swam. Her body started to feel heavy, her fight slipping away.
• She tried to scream again, but it came out weak. Darkness crept in, swallowing her vision. The last thing she heard was a deep voice, calm and sure.
• “Welcome home, Clara.”
• And then nothing.