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 for business.

pain, Atlas had flown across the world to bid on the rarest

existence–for her.

ringing filled my ears.

think better of it, my fingers moved

lock screen flashed

06:50

Love,

66.9%

Chapter 1

worked. His passie wat lassen rthday

here

laugh laddded in my tapet, ind i

sex fashions, insating that we needed perumal spare and

knew

moment the home screen appeared, I was

softened every time he

heart pounded as I tapped into his photo

the same format:

“Ivy, age 10.”

“Ivy, age 11.”

“Ivy, age 12.”

way up to

documented. And in all of them,

my breathing growing

a single picture of me. Not even one of

Only her.

heart–his entire being had revolved around her, from the very

clicked into his notes. And then I saw

[20XX – ]

today climbing a tree. It’s my fault–1 never should’ve planted them

[20XX – ]

today. As long as she’s happy, nothing

[20XX –]

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