Chapter 1

It was our fifth year of marriage.

And for the third time, my husband asked if he could make his "one true love" his second wife.

The first time he brought it up, I lost it. Smashed up the entire Holloway estate.

The second time, I slapped him so hard my hand stung for hours.

Then I packed a bag and disappeared for a week.

He didn't even try to find me.

Instead, he ripped out all the lilies of the valley from our garden—my favorite—and planted her beloved white lilies in their place.

The third time, I said yes.

He smiled, relieved, said I'd finally come around.

He didn't know I had already packed my bags for good.

Didn't know I'd traded the life debt I once shared with First Lady Margaret for a legal separation.

I wasn't accepting her.

I was choosing to let go of them both.

---

After I stamped the Holloway family seal onto the final ledger, Richard's smile widened.

"Sophia's always been better at this than you," he said.

"You should spend more time learning how to be a proper woman from her."

The words cut deep, but I didn't let it show.

This wasn't the first time he said he wanted to marry Sophia Reynolds.

It was just the first time I accepted it quietly.

No screaming. No begging.

I handed over the finances, every account, every ledger.

Richard was surprised at first, then immediately anxious I might change my mind and hurt Sophia's delicate little heart.

Funny, he never worried about hurting mine.

When we first got married, people in D.C. couldn't stop talking about how much Richard Holloway adored his wife.

Back then, I believed I was the luckiest woman alive.

He'd rescued me from a backwoods militia on horseback, of all things.

That night, when I couldn't sleep, terrified and trembling, he sang lullabies to calm me until morning.

My parents didn't want me marrying into the disgraced Holloway name.

So Richard knelt outside our house for three days and nights, refusing to leave.

Later, to win me over completely, he walked away from his trust fund and enlisted—

Just so he could earn the Medal of Valor and get a personal commendation from the President, which he then used to secure White House blessing for our wedding.

Everyone said I'd landed the kind of man you only meet once in a lifetime.

No one guessed that same man would carry on a secret ten-year affair with another woman.

Every month we were married, he wrote her a love letter.

Every birthday gift he gave me was something Sophia didn't want.

Even when he was deployed, he found a way to keep her close.

And on our wedding day?

Sophia showed up—in red.

Not as a guest, but as someone else claiming a piece of him.

When I found out, I felt like the punchline in someone else's tragic joke.

I wanted to confront him.

But all Richard Holloway said was,

"Every man in Washington's got a wife and a mistress."

"What's the big deal?"

"Sophia and I grew up together. We were always meant to be."

"Just play your part and stop making a fuss."

Always meant to be?

Then what the hell were these five years to me?

What about the fortune I funneled into the Holloways to rebuild their name?

The sacrifices I made so he could serve, worry-free, on the frontlines?

I'd cried so much I didn't even have tears left.

Not even pain. Just empty.

I tucked the notarized divorce papers into my bag and headed for the Capitol.

But divorcing a White House-approved marriage? Not so simple.

First Lady Margaret looked torn when I brought it up.

So I rolled up my skirt and showed her the scar on my left thigh.

The one I got saving her life years ago.

The same scar that made me believe Richard was the only man who'd ever love me.

In D.C., looks are everything—and a woman with a scar is damaged goods.

My father offered the biggest dowry you could imagine, and still, no one wanted me.

Only Richard said the scar didn't matter.

Said my parents' status didn't matter either.

He fought like hell to marry me.

So now, I'll use this scar to buy my freedom.

To make sure Richard Holloway and I never share the same air again—for this lifetime, or any other.

Chapter 2

I walked out of the White House gates with a rare sense of relief.

First Lady Margaret had agreed—President Harrison would sign off on our divorce in ten days.

To celebrate, I headed straight for McKenna's Jewel Box to check out the new arrivals.

But the store manager didn't look too happy to see me.

I figured maybe one of the pieces I liked had already been sold.

Just as I was about to say it was fine, he gave me this awkward, almost sympathetic look.

"Ma'am, the bracelet you left for repair?"

"It's fixed now."

"But… something fell out of it."

"We found a bead."

"I had it examined—it's a musk pearl from the East Indies."

Musk pearl?

I'd heard of them.

Colorless. Odorless. Worth a fortune.

But if a woman wears one long enough… she'll never be able to have children.

That bracelet was the very first gift Richard ever gave me.

I wore it for five straight years. I never once took it off.

My hands trembled as I looked down at the gold band I used to polish every night.

My heart twisted.

They say gold scratches easily over time.

But this bracelet looked untouched—like it had been brand new this whole time.

That's how carefully I'd kept it.

And now, all I could see was how cruel the joke had been.

Five years. Five damn years I blamed myself for not being able to get pregnant.

I thought I was broken.

I thought it was my fault Richard didn't have a son or daughter.

Every time someone in his family suggested he take a mistress, he shot them down without hesitation.

I thought he wanted only me.

I thought I was lucky.

Tears welled up in my eyes.

Turns out, all those vows and whispered promises—just smoke and mirrors.

A fairytale I made up for myself.

Back at the house, I realized I'd forgotten to hand in one last ledger.

Wanting to avoid more drama, I brought it straight to Richard's study.

He was there, going through papers.

He didn't even look up—just said calmly, "My tea's cold. Go warm it up."

I ignored him.

"Where's Sophia?" I asked instead.

If she was going to be his second wife, she should be doing the serving.

Richard's eyes darkened. His voice sharpened.

"Sophia's pregnant. She can't be doing that kind of work."

Pregnant.

Of course. That's why he was in such a hurry to marry her.

My heart started pounding, my breath catching in my throat.

He noticed.

Paused for a second, like he was going to explain.

But then he smirked.

"What?" he said.

"You couldn't give me a child in five years."

"Now Sophia has, and you're not even a little grateful?"

Grateful?

For being lied to? Poisoned? Replaced?

Tears blurred my vision.

I slammed the bracelet on the desk.

Richard stared at the bead.

His expression changed.

"You... you found out?"

For a brief moment, he looked ashamed.

Then, just as quickly, he sat back down—cold and composed.

"So what if you know? You think I did this for no reason?"

"With that massive scar on your leg, what kind of child would we have had?"

"I did it for your own good."

He said it so matter-of-factly.

Like he hadn't just destroyed everything between us.

That scar—my secret, my shame—I'd only ever shown him.

Now it was the very thing he used to cut me down.

Two sentences.

That's all it took to shatter every piece of pride I had left.

I finally saw it.

Richard Holloway had never loved me.

He'd lied about Sophia. Lied about everything.

Even the tiny scraps of affection he once showed me… were part of the act.

Still, some stupid part of me held on.

Five years of marriage—surely he cared, even a little.

But no.

Even that... was fake.

Chapter 3

My eyes burned red as I glared at Richard and hurled the ledger to the floor.

For once, he looked rattled.

"What… what are you doing?" he stammered.

So he could be scared.

Scared I might finally lose it?

I laughed coldly.

"Richard, after everything you've done, you really think I won't go to my father?"

"Or tell First Lady Margaret?"

He just laughed.

"Please. Margaret doesn't give a damn about domestic squabbles."

"And your dad? He's all about appearances."

"You think he'll back you on a public divorce?"

He was so sure.

So convinced I had no one on my side.

My body was shaking.

I stared at the man I'd loved for five long years—and couldn't recognize him at all.

Maybe it was the silence that threw him.

Because next, he actually looked… pitying.

"Emily, we've been married for five years."

"You'll always be my first wife. That title's yours."

"Nothing changes that."

Every word was like a dagger.

I turned away.

Left the study without another glance.

Outside, the crabapple trees had already turned brown.

Just like my marriage—dead and done.

I wondered, if he knew it was because of that scar he hated…

That the scar earned me the right to walk away from him forever…

Would it matter?

I laughed bitterly and walked straight into the cold November wind.

There were ten days left before President Harrison would make our divorce official.

In the meantime, First Lady Margaret was hosting her birthday gala at the Capitol.

Only official wives could attend.

So naturally, Richard brought Sophia.

She smiled sweetly at me in the carriage like nothing was wrong.

I dropped my eyes and gave a quiet, bitter laugh.

I finally understood Richard's plan—he wanted Sophia to be seen.

To be accepted.

To make her status indistinguishable from mine.

And he wanted me humiliated.

Once I saw it for what it was, the pain dulled.

I stared out the window the whole ride, never once looking at them.

Though… every now and then, I caught Richard watching me.

The party went smoothly.

Sophia made her debut.

But First Lady Margaret wasn't impressed.

She frowned as soon as she saw her.

"This is a formal gathering," she said.

"Only official wives were invited."

"Did you bring a mistress to insult me?"

Richard dropped to his knees, pulling Sophia down with him.

"First Lady, Sophia is my second wife—not a mistress."

Margaret narrowed her eyes.

"Second wife or not—she's not your real wife."

"Ask any of the women here if they agree."

"You stood before God and the law with Emily Carter."

"That makes her your wife."

"This one? Just a mistress."

The room went silent.

Richard's face flushed red as he scrambled to apologize and get Sophia out of there.

Afterward, First Lady Margaret sent me home with armfuls of gifts.

And a message.

The President would sign off on our divorce the day Richard married Sophia.

Back at the estate, I decided to share the gifts with Sophia.

It wasn't out of kindness—I just didn't want any more trouble.

I stopped the maid from announcing me and reached to knock.

That's when I heard Sophia crying inside.

"Richard, you promised to marry me."

"Why does everyone still call me a mistress?"

His voice came, soft and sweet—maybe a little tired.

"You'll always be my wife, no matter what others say."

But Sophia wasn't done.

"And what about Emily Carter?"

"You pulled off that whole rescue stunt for her—like some knight in shining armor."

"Did you ever love her?"

A pause.

Then Richard's voice snapped.

"Don't say that!"

It was the first time I'd heard him actually yell.

"I told you—don't ever bring that up in this house."

My hand froze on the door.

My fingers clenched into a fist.

And just like that… I remembered.

That day I thought he'd saved me.

That day I thought fate brought us together.

Turns out, even that was staged.

Even that... was a lie.