Chapter 1

Everyone at Hayes Medical Group knew I was the CEO's model wife.

Then my son died, and I became a ghost.

I stopped pressing Carter's suits at dawn. Stopped timing dinner to his schedule. And today I came alone to fill out Leo's death certificate.

The clerk took my paperwork and asked without looking up, "Where's the father?"

"His father's dead."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but our records show the father is Carter Hayes, CEO of Hayes Medical Group. Mr. Hayes is alive."

"Alive or dead," I said. "What's the difference anymore."

"Why didn't you wait for me?"

I went stiff but didn't turn around.

Carter strode up beside me, voice tight. "My assistant found you here. I'm Leo's father. Why the hell would you shut me out?"

I finally looked at him. "You're busy. I didn't want to interrupt."

I saw the anger in his eyes. Maybe more than that.

I used to ask permission for everything, like which wine to serve at dinner parties, whether she should cut her hair. Always checking with him first.

Since Leo died, I'd stopped asking.

"Mr. Hayes!"

His assistant burst in, cutting him off.

"Another incident at the hospital. That nurse, Tessa, mixed up patient meds again. The family's threatening to sue!"

Carter's jaw went tight. Annoyance flickered across his face. "How many times do I have to tell her to be more careful?"

But his body was already turning toward the door. Feet already moving.

He glanced back at me. Half a second of hesitation. "Wait here. I'll handle this fast and come back."

He didn't wait for an answer. Just walked out, his expensive shoes clicking against the tile until he was gone.

I stared down at the death certificate in my hands.

Then I laughed.

Tears hit the paper before I even felt them coming.

Again. Always Tessa.

Carter and I grew up in the same world. Old money, summer houses, prep school.

He built Hayes Medical Group into a billion-dollar empire by thirty.

I graduated top of my Ivy League research program with offers from institutions all over the world.

Everyone thought I'd chase that.

But I turned it all down for Carter. Walked away from my career to become Mrs. Hayes to stand beside him at galas, run his household and give him a son.

And for years, Carter had cherished me.

When my migraines got so bad I couldn't see, he used to drive across town at 2 AM to get that specific herbal tea I liked.

When I mentioned a vintage Hermès bag once—once—he spent weeks tracking one down.

When insomnia kept me up, he'd read to me in bed, moonlight on his face.

I loved him completely. No conditions.

And in return, I made his life run like clockwork.

Society magazines called me the perfect wife. Every year we topped the Power Couples lists.

Then we had Leo.He was a beautiful boy with Carter's eyes and smile like me.

I thought it would last forever.

Then Tessa showed up.

She was an orphan the Hayes family had taken in after her parents died.

Carter, playing the hero, gave her a job as a clinical assistant at his private hospital. I'd welcomed her myself. And helped her settle in.

I never imagined that kindness would become my nightmare.

The day Leo spiked a fever, his face flushed red, crying nonstop, I panicked and rushed him to the hospital.

Tessa was on duty. I left Leo in her care, reminded her twice about the medication, and ran home for his medical records.

Fifteen minutes. That's all it was.

When I got back, Leo was convulsing. Tessa stood there frozen, face white, hands shaking.

It was already too late. I held his cold body and screamed until I had nothing left.

The memory broke apart.

I gripped the death certificate, chest cracking open, barely able to breathe.

I wiped my face, stood up and went home.

The mansion was empty. Leo's toys still on the coffee table. His little sneakers lined up by the door exactly where he'd left them.

I went to the study. My hands were shaking when I dialed the number I'd buried for years.

"Hello?"

"Dr. Sterling. It's Serena Hayes." My voice came out quieter. "That research position in Switzerland. I'll take it."

A beat of silence. "Serena? Are you sure? It's a ten-year contract. You might not see Carter for a long time, the NDA alone—"

"I'm sure," I said. "I don't love him anymore."

"Don't love who anymore?"

The door slammed open.

Carter stood in the doorway, face drained of color.