Chapter 2

Atlas had never truly forgotten her.

He had merely played his part–pretending to love me, pretending to be the devoted husband–while his heart had always belonged to someone else.

I had underestimated just how deeply he loved Ivy.

The sharp *clatter* of a phone hitting the hardwood floor snapped me out of my thoughts. Atlas’s phone had slipped from his pocket, skidding to a stop at my feet.

I bent down to pick it up, and just as my fingers brushed against the sleek screen, a message popped up.

“Atlas, thank you for taking drinks for me tonight. And the necklace… I can’t accept it. It’s far too precious.”

A cold wave swept through me. The next notification was worse.

A social media post–from Ivy Monroe.

“Love is priceless.”

Attached was a photo–a breathtaking diamond necklace, radiant under the soft glow of candlelight.

I recognized it instantly. The world’s only one of its kind, recently auctioned for an astronomical price–one billion dollars. A mysterious bidder had outspent everyone to claim it.

Now, I knew who that bidder was.

And Ivy? She had posted it fo

me to see. She wanted me to know.

Just last week, Atlas had be?

so busy that he barely had time to eat. He had collapsed from stomach pain and been rushed to the ER. I had been beside myself with worry, torn between anger at his negligence and heartache that he would push himself so hard.

Yet the moment he opened his eyes, he boarded a flight to England.

I had thought it was for work. I had been furious at him for putting his job above his own health.

now, I knew the truth. He hadn’t gone

flown across the

existence–for her.

dull ringing filled my ears.

I could think better of it, my fingers moved on their own, typing in

lock screen

06:50

of Love, Seven Minutes

66.9%

Chapter 1

passie wat lassen

was here leysartday

laugh laddded in my tapet, ind i d

let me sex fashions, insating that we needed perumal

i knew

moment the home screen appeared, I was greeted with her faceday–ling

softened every time he undorked his

tapped into his photo

album had the same format:

“Ivy, age 10.”

“Ivy, age 11.”

“Ivy, age 12.”

to

documented. And in all of them, she

my

of me.

Only her.

had revolved around

I clicked into his notes.

[20XX – ]

climbing a tree. It’s my fault–1 never

[20XX – ]

long as she’s happy, nothing else matters. My life exists to make her

[20XX –]

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