Chapter 1
You’d think after all these years, the discomfort would fade. That I’d stop feeling like an outsider in a place I’ve entered a hundred times. But every time feels like the first. I knew I didn’t belong here to the second we stepped out of the car.
The Monroe Gala was built for bloodlines, old names, old money, old rules.
Even the champagne looked smug. The chandeliers glittered like they were judging me. Everyone wore confidence like tailored silk. And me? I wore the safest dress in my closet.
Navy. Modest.
I walked in beside Rhys Carrington, my husband, on paper. My partner in name. My mistake in every other language. He didn’t look at me. Just checked his cufflinks and scanned the crowd like a predator looking for a better opportunity.
People turned when we entered. But not for me. Never for me. I was the afterthought standing at his side, the girl no one remembered inviting.
Arielle Carrington, Rhys’ sister, clocked me immediately.
“God, he brought Celene,” she muttered to her date, voice just loud enough, “didn’t realize we were doing charity cases this year.” I smiled like it didn’t slice. It always did. But I’d grown good at bleeding quietly.
Vivian Carrington, my husband’s mother, didn’t even blink when her eyes met mine. She didn’t nod, she did not even bother faking it.
She just turned to the woman beside her and said, “Some girls marry up. Others just claw their way in through the side door, uninvited.”
I stood taller. Rhys didn’t reach for my hand. He didn’t even glance at me.
We made rounds like every other year. He kissed cheeks, talked about profit margins, name-dropped hedge funds like old friends. I smiled when expected, laughed when cued.
The perfect placeholder.
The accessory that didn’t speak.
Sometimes he touched my back, just a soft press between my shoulder blades. A signal. A reminder. Play the part, Celene.
And I did. Like I always had, because I was his wife. Not the woman he introduced with pride. Not the woman whose hand he held with certainty. Just the one who existed in the background, quiet, convenient, replaceable.
We were in three glasses of champagne when I finally spoke.
“Do I have a purpose here tonight,” I asked, my voice barely above the music, “or am I just the body keeping your tie from blowing in the wind?”
Rhys didn’t even flinch. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Harder for who?” I said. “You? Or your mother, who still can’t say my name without swallowing bitterness?”
He exhaled like I was a problem. “You wanted to come.”
I looked at him then. “I wanted to matter.” He didn’t answer, he just stepped toward the podium and tapped his glass. The room fell silent like it was trained to obey him.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Rhys began, flashing that polished smile he wore better than any watch, “thank you all for being here tonight. It’s always an honor to stand among visionaries.”
I waited for the rest. The usual speech. Something safe. Something rehearsed.
Instead, he dropped my hand.
“And while tonight is about progress,” he said, “I want to share a personal update.”
My spine went rigid. I already knew.
“Celene and I have decided to part ways,” he continued, clean, calm, and professional. “I’m grateful for the time we’ve shared. But it’s time for a new chapter. I’ll be building both my personal life and business future with Bianca Caldwell—as my partner in both.”
There it was—a name that landed like a slap. Two tables away, Bianca smiled, all teeth and practiced charm. She was the granddaughter of the investor Rhys had convinced to pour money into Monroe Industries. And I knew exactly how he got that yes.
Vivian’s face didn’t move. Arielle grinned like it was her birthday. The crowd buzzed. Gasps. Whispered reactions. Flashing lights. And me? I just stood there. Still. Numb.
“You planned this,” I said under my breath, barely audible.
Rhys’ voice didn’t waver. “I did what needed to be done. Clean break. Public clarity.”
I stared at him. “This wasn’t clarity, this was a public execution.”
His eyes darted to the cameras. “Let’s not create drama.”
“You already did,” I hissed. “You handed me to a room of people who already wanted to see me bleed.”
“It’s better this way. Bianca’s… more aligned with my future.”
My throat tightened. “And I’m what? A baggage?”
He shrugged slightly. “I can’t carry dead weight anymore, Celene.”
