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.

hadn’t gone for business. He had gone to

across the

existence–for her.

filled my

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

screen flashed open.

06:50

Years of Love, Seven

66.9%

Chapter 1

His passie wat

was here leysartday

laddded in my tapet, ind i

let me sex fashions, insating that we needed perumal spare and

i knew

screen appeared, I was greeted with her faceday–ling

softened every time he undorked

as I tapped

the same

“Ivy, age 10.”

“Ivy, age 11.”

“Ivy, age 12.”

way up to “Ivy, age 25.”

photos. Every stage of her life, carefully documented. And in all of them, she

my

of me.

Only her.

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

into his notes. And

[20XX – ]

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

[20XX – ]

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

[20XX –]

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