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.

He hadn’t gone for business. He had gone to

in agony, doubled over from pain, Atlas had flown across the world to bid on the rarest necklace

existence–for her.

filled

of it, my fingers moved on their own, typing

screen flashed open.

06:50

of Love, Seven Minutes fruth

66.9%

Chapter 1

wat lassen rthday Amer

was here leysartday

laddded in my tapet, ind

always refused to let me sex fashions,

knew why.

I was greeted with her faceday–ling bright,

softened every time

tapped

album had the same format:

“Ivy, age 10.”

“Ivy, age 11.”

“Ivy, age 12.”

way up to “Ivy,

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

frantically, my breathing growing shallow.

picture of me. Not even one

Only her.

revolved around

notes. And then

[20XX – ]

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

[20XX – ]

happy, nothing else matters. My life exists to

[20XX –]

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