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My husband told me he'd be unreachable for three months. Two days later, I found him at a restaurant. Cracking crab for another woman. "Ms. Bennett, this is my boyfriend," she said, smiling. Sabrina. My CLIENT. Julian looked at me and gave a polite nod. Like we were strangers. Like I hadn't worn his first-paycheck watch for ten years. "I wouldn't exactly call myself her boyfriend," he said. "We worked on a project together." A project. That's what ten years of marriage was to him now. Then Sabrina started telling everyone their love story. How they met at a pitch competition. How he moved her to the last slot, even though he was a stickler for rules. How he brought her soup when she was sick. I set down my glass. "That project—October 14, two years ago?" She turned, surprised. "How did you know?" "Because I never made it to the pitch. My grandmother was in the ICU. I called asking to move my slot. Every time, I was told no. 'Rules are rules.'" I looked at Julian. "Do you know who took those calls?" He went pale. Then his phone rang. His mother. And Sabrina leaned in. "Mrs. Mercer, it's Sabrina. Julian and I will come see you." I froze. She'd already met his family. That night, she posted a video accusing me of seducing her fiancé. The entire office turned against me. But they had no idea what was coming. I called my lawyer that morning. "Prepare my divorce papers." This time, I wasn't asking anyone to explain. When I arrived at a restaurant to meet a client, I spotted my husband, Julian Mercer, who was supposed to be overseas for work. He had his head down, cracking open a crab and picking out the meat for a woman with long, wavy hair. The woman was Sabrina Grant—the client I was there to meet. She followed my gaze and introduced him without the slightest hesitation. "Ms. Bennett, you're here. This is my boyfriend. He happened to have business in Westbridge, so you don't mind if he joins us, do you?" A message Julian had sent me flashed
