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In the third year of her marriage, on the same day Connor Harrison’s elder brother died, Serenity Whitman told Connor she wanted out. Connor stared at her, brow drawn tight. “So you’re really divorcing me because I took a slap for Pippa?” Pippa. The way he wrapped warmth around that name made Serenity’s stomach turn. Philippa Mitchell wasn’t some random friend. She was his sister-in-law. Serenity let out a small, icy smile. “Yes. That’s the reason.” Could one slap truly end a marriage? The livid print across Connor’s cheek that night said plenty. He had stepped in front of Philippa without hesitation—so blatantly that even the Harrisons had been shaken. Serenity alone had stayed still. Three days earlier, on their wedding anniversary… She had arranged a surprise getaway, booked a late flight, and slipped into the city where Connor worked, imagining a reunion that might finally feel like a marriage. Instead, she paused outside a room and heard his voice—easy, familiar—along with two of his friends. “Connor, I’ve got to say it,” one of them said. “Every anniversary you disappear. That’s brutal. Serenity’s treated you well.” Connor, who was usually polished and courteous, sounded tired to the bone. “You think I enjoy it? If I don’t keep my distance, she’ll never believe I haven’t laid a hand on her these past years.” “She…” Another friend faltered, then lost his restraint. “You mean Philippa? Are you serious right now? She’s pregnant again and you’re still hung up on her?” Connor gave a short, humorless snort. “And Serenity? I’m supposed to worry? You really think Jasper Sinclair’s going to let this go?” “He won’t,” Connor replied, calm as ever, rubbing his fingertips together. “She married me. That ended it. Jasper’s had her blocked on WhatsApp for three years.” Serenity turned and left without making a sound. Her stride didn’t wobble, but her hands shook—only slightly, only enough for her to feel it. She had always suspected there was someone else. She had
