Chapter 2

Chloe gave me the full tour.

I walked through the vision I had built — room by room, for someone else entirely — and every corner felt like a bruise.

We reached the second floor.

A door flew open and a white poodle came bounding out.

“My baby!” Chloe scooped it up. “You always lose your mind when Mommy comes home, don’t you?”

Then the dog twisted out of her arms and launched itself straight at me, tail going wild, front paws scrabbling at my legs.

I went rigid.

It was only then, up close, that I finally saw him clearly.

Chloe laughed. “Wow — he seems to really like you. It’s almost like he already knows you?”

My throat tightened. “What’s his name?”

“Biscuit. He’s five.” She scratched behind his ears, offhand. “I’ve only had him two years, though. Ethan adopted him from a relative — he said he was worried I’d get lonely at home, so he wanted to find me a gentle dog for company.”

I laughed.

A hollow, quiet sound.

Of course he knows me.

Biscuit was the last gift my grandmother left me before she died.

I raised him for three years.

One day he simply vanished. I thought I’d lost him. I cried for days.

And Ethan held me. “Stop crying, Elena. I’ll always be here.”

Biscuit hadn’t gone missing at all.

Ethan had taken him and given him to Chloe.

“Look at me, going on and on — I almost forgot why we came.” Chloe pushed open the bedroom door and started hunting for the file.

I lingered in the doorway.

My attention caught on something stuck to the wall — a handwritten chore chart.

Ethan’s handwriting. Neat, precise, unmistakable.

Monday through Sunday, every day filled in — laundry, sweeping, tidying up.

“What’s this?” My voice came out unsteady.

Chloe glanced up, her expression completely casual.

“His weekly task list. I have a thing about cleanliness, but I didn’t want to hire a housekeeper — so he handles all of it.”

She rested her chin in her hand, fond and a little amused.

“Honestly, he’s pretty thorough about it.”

I stood there feeling cold from head to toe.

When we lived together, we had a housekeeper.

But I felt guilty — he worked so hard — so I quietly took over the housework myself.

Back then, I was willing to do anything for him. I did it gladly.

Every bit of it felt like a joke now.

“Found it!” Chloe’s voice snapped me back.

“Take a look — does everything seem okay?”

I flipped through it mechanically.

Every signature line on every page.

Ethan.

His handwriting — I know it better than my own name.

I held the pain down and kept my voice steady.

“Everything looks fine. I’ll be in touch about the surgery date.”

I turned to go.

Chloe caught my arm.

“Don’t rush! It’s about to rain, and it’s almost dinnertime.” She grinned. “Stay and eat with us — I’ll have Ethan cook. He’s incredible in the kitchen.”

He cooks?

In all our years together, I didn’t know he could do that.

Before I could say no, she’d already pulled me onto the sofa and was dialing.

“Ethan, where are you? I missed you — get home and make dinner.”

His voice came through the speaker — familiar, and yet almost unrecognizable.

It wasn’t the clipped, guarded tone I knew. This was warm, easy, indulgent.

“Sweetheart, I showed up at the hospital with 999 roses to pick you up and you were already gone. You didn’t even tell me. I was worried about you.”

999 roses.

In five years together, the most he ever sent me was eleven roses.

On my birthday. Ordered by his secretary — after I reminded him.

Chloe clicked her tongue.

“I’m sorry! I’ll give you a full report next time. Come home — we have a guest. Time to show off, Chef Ethan.”

A bright, easy laugh came through the phone.

“Yes, ma’am! On my way. Don’t start without me.”

I sat on the sofa, completely numb.

My nails pressed into my palm until I couldn’t feel it anymore.

999 roses, rushing to the hospital, calling her sweetheart — that open, easy laugh was nothing like the man I thought I knew.

None of it had ever been mine.

I couldn’t even picture him in an apron. That man with the perfectly pressed suit and the carefully controlled expression, standing in a kitchen and laughing like that.

It simply didn’t add up.