1 I kept my eyes locked on the tie clip resting on my husband’s collar. Even though the color and cut were nearly identical, I knew in a heartbeat. It wasn’t the one he put on this morning. “That clip is a limited edition. George won the only one in New York at that auction just for you!” Brooke stirred her coffee with agonizing slowness, completely brushing off my concerns. “You are just so madly in love with the guy that you’re getting paranoid.” I shook my head slightly. “It just feels different.” “Look, princess, everyone knows George worships the ground you walk on. That clip was an anniversary gift. The man literally has your socks custom-made. He would never let someone else own the exact same thing as you.” Brooke rolled her eyes, a hint of playful jealousy in her expression. “Honestly, I think you’re just rubbing your perfect marriage in my perpetually single face.” I froze for a second, then let out a sudden, genuine laugh at her dramatic pout. “I am not.” Right on cue, my phone began to ring. “Sweetheart, is your coffee date over yet?” George’s deep, velvety voice drifted through the speaker. “Not yet,” I replied softly. Just hearing the gentle cadence of his voice made my eyes unconsciously soften. “Well, give me a call right before you wrap up. I’ll come pick you up. Traffic is a nightmare right now, and I hate the idea of you driving alone.” Every word was wrapped in heavy, undeniable devotion. Brooke shook her head across the table, muttering under her breath. “Lord. You are the only woman on earth who gets to see the ruthless George Kensington act like a golden retriever.” She wasn’t wrong. In the corporate world, George was cold ice. He was decisive, aggressive, and entirely merciless. I was the only person who got to see this fiercely attentive side of him. He knew every microscopic detail of my existence, as if I were carved into his very bones. He knew my favorite bakery, the niche designers I adored, the subtle twitch in my brow when I was upset, and the way I tapped my fingers when I was happy. He knew I loved the smell of wet grass right before a thunderstorm, and how I loved watching the sun shatter across the surface of a lake. He remembered things about me that I didn’t even notice myself. A few years ago, we took a road trip through the Pacific Northwest. A massive storm hit, trapping us on a winding mountain pass. Lightning struck close, and the earth gave way. A tidal wave of mud and crushed rock came hurtling down the ridge straight toward our car. In that split second between life and death, George threw his entire body over mine. He took the full force of the shattered windshield, wrapping me in his arms and burying my head against his chest as the car was swept off the road. He didn’t let go. Not once. When the rescue teams finally dug us out of the freezing mud, George only allowed his eyes to close after he saw me securely lifted onto the ambulance stretcher. He collapsed from pure exhaustion, his back torn open by glass and jagged rock, leaving a permanent, jagged scar down his spine. When he finally woke up in the hospital, he looked at my red, swollen eyes and offered a faint, exhausted smile. “It’s just proof that George Kensington would die for Hazel.” Because of that day, I never questioned his love. I loved him just as fiercely. But it was exactly because I loved him so deeply that a single, minuscule flaw in a tie clip was enough to trigger alarms in my head. It was an exclusive piece, bought at a high-end charity auction just last week. Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe there wasn’t a second one in the entire city, and I was just losing my mind. But then why did my stomach feel like it was full of crushed glass? After agonizing over it for another ten minutes, I decided to go to Kensington Holdings. I needed to look him in the eye and clear my head. Sitting in the back of an Uber, I watched the city blur past the window, my mind a tangled mess. What was I even going to say when I saw him? Would throwing a baseless accusation in his face break his heart? We were one block away. I called Nina to let her know I was coming. When the car pulled up to the glass skyscraper, she was already waiting by the revolving doors. Seeing her bright, welcoming smile eased the knot in my chest. Nina used to be the janitor at my yoga studio. Once, I accidentally left my phone in the locker room, and she literally tripped down a flight of concrete stairs trying to run after me to return it. After learning she was struggling to support her family, I pulled some strings and got her a cushy front-desk job at George’s company. Dressed in a sharp, tailored skirt suit, Nina practically bounded over to me. “Hazel! You’re finally here!” I offered a polite smile. “Is something wrong? Did something happen at the office?” Nina leaned in, her eyes wide with dramatic secrecy. “Huge news. Absolutely massive.” My heart stopped. “What happened?” Was George hurt? Seeing the sheer panic on my face, Nina giggled and bumped my shoulder. “Mr. Kensington misses his wife so much he’s taking it out on us corporate drones. The negative energy is suffocating. I’d call that a massive crisis, wouldn’t you?” I let out a long, shaky breath and shot her a playful glare. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.” Nina laughed, escorting me to the private executive elevator and swiping her keycard for the penthouse floor. When the metal doors slid open, I was met with the sight of several stunningly gorgeous young women clustered in the corridor. I couldn’t help the intrusive thought that clawed at my brain. Was George involved with one of them? The moment the thought materialized, I felt physically sick. How could I even think that? When George became the youngest billionaire in Manhattan, endless parades of supermodels and heiresses threw themselves at his feet, and he never gave them a second glance. He wouldn’t throw our life away for a random temp. Seeing me frowning and biting my lip, Nina quickly clarified the situation. “Those are the new hires for the PR department. Mr. Kensington specifically ordered HR to handle the final interviews so he wouldn’t have to stay late and miss dinner with you.” She playfully poked my waist. “Don’t tell me the CEO’s wife is actually getting jealous?” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Yeah, yeah. You caught me.” Nina dropped me off in front of George’s double oak doors and headed back downstairs. I looked inside. The massive office was entirely empty. A cup of black coffee was still steaming on his desk. He couldn’t have gone far. I sat on the plush leather sofa for twenty minutes, but he never showed up. Restless, I stepped back out into the hallway and pushed open the door to the secretary’s office. The heavy blackout blinds were completely drawn, leaving only thin slivers of gray light slicing through the dark room. A woman was sitting behind the massive mahogany desk, her head bowed, entirely oblivious to me standing in the doorway. I knocked twice on the glass pane. The woman jumped, her head snapping up. When our eyes met, I froze dead in my tracks. Daisy. I remembered the day perfectly. I was sitting on the living room sofa, mindlessly flipping through a fashion magazine. The front door clicked open, and I looked up to see George walk in, his face looking like a thunderstorm. The sheer darkness rolling off his shoulders made my pulse spike. I walked over, gently running my fingers through his damp hair. “What’s wrong, baby?” He didn’t say a word. He just buried his face in my neck, holding me so tight it hurt. After a suffocating silence, his voice cracked. “I saw Daisy today.” My hand froze in his hair. The darkest, bloodiest memory I possessed came rushing back, drowning me. Years ago, George and I were expecting our first child. I was six months pregnant. He was driving me to a routine ultrasound, and he pulled the car over to run into a pharmacy for some bottled water. I was sitting in the passenger seat, resting my hand on my swollen belly, watching him walk through the glass doors. The next second, a massive commercial delivery truck smashed into the back of our sedan at highway speeds. The truck driver died on impact. I was crushed into the mangled metal of the dashboard, barely breathing, watching a river of my own blood pool around my legs. We lost the baby. I spent a week in a coma in the ICU before I even woke up. Daisy was the truck driver’s daughter. She was fourteen at the time. I could still remember her standing behind a police officer in the hospital hallway, her face stained with tears, looking like a terrified animal. George never personally handled low-level hires. So when he ran into Daisy at Kensington Holdings, she was already a fully contracted employee. Standing in our living room that night, George’s eyes were entirely bloodshot. He wiped a tear from my cheek, his face twisting in genuine agony. He held me fiercely. “I know, sweetheart. I know. It’s in the past. I’m going to fire her tomorrow. I promise you will never have to look at her face.” George grew up in a broken home. I knew better than anyone how desperately he wanted that baby. When I first opened my eyes in the hospital, he was on his knees beside my bed, pale as a ghost, weeping like a lost child. His grief was just as deep, just as violent as mine. A few weeks after he told me about Daisy, I asked him if she was gone. He hesitated, his eyes flashing with deep guilt. “She… she’s pregnant. Labor laws state we can’t terminate her contract until her maternity period ends.” He panicked, quickly grabbing my hands. “But I transferred her to the logistics warehouse on the edge of the city. I swear to god, she will never cross your path!” He hadn’t lied. The few times I visited the company after that, I never saw her. Until today. Sitting directly in the executive secretary’s office. I stared at her, my voice dropping to a freezing temperature. “Why are you here?” A highly unnatural flush painted Daisy’s pale cheeks. She scrambled out of the leather chair, bowing her head nervously. “Sarah is on a business trip, so the logistics staff are rotating to cover her desk. It was my turn this week.” She was petite, almost frail, with thick bangs hiding her eyes. Her heavily pregnant stomach protruded sharply against her frame. Logic screamed at me that she was an innocent girl paying for her father’s sins. But looking at her pregnant belly, the phantom pain of my dead child twisted a knife into my ribs. I swallowed the bile in my throat. “Where is George?” “The city just released a batch of project funds. Mr. Kensington took the finance director downstairs to sign the clearance papers.” She gestured toward the door. “You can wait in his office. He should be back at any moment.” Before she even finished her sentence, her entire body gave a violent, uncontrollable shudder. I frowned, taking a step forward. “Are you okay?” Daisy took a ragged breath and forced a painfully tight smile. “I just stood up too fast. A little dizzy, that’s all. Thank you for asking.” I walked back to George’s office and sat in his chair. The entire surface of his desk was covered in framed photos of me. He had handwritten the exact time, date, and location on the back of every single one. I leaned back, a bitter taste in my mouth. Maybe Brooke was right. Maybe I really was a paranoid lunatic. A man who loved me this loudly, this shamelessly, would never betray me. Just as I let out a sigh, George walked in. He leaned gracefully against the doorframe, his eyes curving into half-moons, a soft, teasing smile playing on his lips. “Miss me?” I stood up, crossing the room to wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. “Are you mad I crashed your day?” George let out a low chuckle. He tilted my chin up with two fingers and leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to my lips. “I am thrilled. You made my whole week.” His embrace was warm, solid. But something felt incredibly wrong. His heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Looking closer, there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. And beneath the sharp scent of his cologne, there was a faint, sour smell. I opened my mouth to ask if he was feeling sick, but the digital calendar on the wall screen flashed red. An automated message from the secretary’s desk popped up. Meeting with the Sinclair Group in five minutes. George subtly shifted his weight, his eyes darkening as he read the notification. “Sweetheart, can you hang out here for a bit?” I pushed gently out of his arms. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to distract you. I’ll wait for you at home.” I stood on my toes, kissed his forehead, and walked out the door. As the elevator doors slid shut, the frantic, pounding rhythm of George’s heart echoed in my ears. I couldn’t shake it. Something was horribly wrong. I pressed the button for the penthouse floor again. When I stepped back into the hallway, the door to the secretary’s office was cracked open. Through the narrow slit, I saw Daisy slumped back in the leather chair. Her knuckles were bone-white as she gripped the armrests, taking deep, desperate gasps of air. I told myself it was just pregnancy complications. Back in my third trimester, I used to get dizzy spells and shortness of breath out of nowhere. I didn’t want to invade her privacy, so I turned around and headed for the stairs. But as I walked past George’s office, the door was wide open. It was completely empty. When did he leave? Where did he go? And then it hit me like a physical blow. The desk in the secretary’s office. It was massive. Easily large enough to comfortably conceal a fully grown man underneath it. After work hours, I sat in my car and watched Daisy walk down the block. I tailed her on foot until she pushed through the gold-trimmed revolving doors of the Plaza Hotel. She walked quickly, never once looking over her shoulder. I watched the digital numbers above the elevator stop dead on the 37th floor. A chill crawled up my spine. This was the most exclusive, hyper-luxurious hotel in the city. Any floor above the 36th was reserved exclusively for long-term residential VIP suites. One suite per floor. How in the hell could a warehouse temp afford to live here? I sat in a velvet chair in the lobby lounge, my brain short-circuiting. What was I doing? Why was I stalking this pregnant girl? Because she looked a little flushed? Because my husband’s heart was beating fast? A wave of crushing humiliation washed over me. This was pathetic. I was the wife of a billionaire, hiding behind a potted plant because of a completely fabricated delusion. I grabbed my purse, ready to go home and apologize to George. But just as I stood up, a familiar figure walked through the front doors. George.
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