My housekeeper begged me to disguise myself as a maid to catch my husband cheating, and I thought she'd been fooled by nothing more than gossip.

PART 2:

I pushed the cleaning cart down the marble hallway with my head lowered, the wheels squeaking softly beneath the chandeliers I had chosen myself.

Every corner of that mansion carried a piece of me.

The oil painting Ethan bought me for our fifth anniversary. The silk curtains I had flown in from Italy. The grand staircase where he had once lifted me into his arms and promised, laughing, that he would love me until his last breath.

Now I moved through it like a stranger.

Grace walked a few steps behind me, her face pale.

“Stay calm,” she whispered.

Then I heard laughter.

A woman’s laughter.

Light, careless, familiar.

My heart began to pound so violently I feared it would give me away.

The sound came from the west sitting room.

I stopped outside the half-open door and looked inside.

Ethan stood near the fireplace in a black shirt, smiling in that intimate way I thought belonged only to me.

And in his arms was a woman in a red silk dress.

She was younger than me, beautiful, confident—and completely at ease in my home.

Ethan kissed her forehead.

“Soon,” he murmured, “all of this will be yours.”

My breath caught.

The woman smiled. “And your wife?”

Ethan’s expression changed. The warmth vanished.

“Vivian is useful,” he said coldly. “For now.”

The room tilted.

Useful.

That was what I had become after twelve years of marriage.

The woman traced a finger down his chest. “You said the lawyers were ready.”

“They are,” Ethan replied. “Once she signs the revised trust papers next week, everything transfers quietly. She won’t even understand what she’s signing.”

I clutched the cart handle until my knuckles burned.

This was no affair.

This was a trap.

Grace’s hand touched my arm, steadying me.

Then, from inside the room, the woman turned slightly.

For the first time, I saw her face clearly.

My blood went cold.

It was not some stranger Ethan had met in secret.

It was Lauren Whitmore.

My attorney.

The woman I had trusted with every document, every signature, every detail of my inheritance.

Before I could move, Ethan’s phone rang.