I couldn't sleep. The revelation of Reece's duplicate life had left me wide awake, staring at the ceiling of our luxury suite while he slumbered peacefully beside me. How could he sleep so soundly while maintaining two separate relationships? The question haunted me as I slipped out of bed at dawn, careful not to disturb him.
The morning air was crisp as I leaned against the balcony railing, watching the sun rise over the Mediterranean. My wedding ring caught the first light, the diamonds sending tiny rainbows across my skin. Not unique. Not special. Just one of two identical rings Reece had commissioned.
A gentle knock at our suite door startled me. I wrapped my robe tighter and opened it to find a uniformed crew member holding an enormous bouquet of white roses—rare Alabaster Gardenia roses that only bloomed for a few weeks each year.
"Mrs. Coleman? Anniversary delivery for you," he said with a practiced smile.
I accepted the flowers, my fingers trembling as I extracted the small card nestled among the pristine blooms.
*To my only love, my heart's true companion. Ten years ago, I made the best decision of my life. Here's to eternity together. Forever yours, Reece.*
The handwriting was unmistakably his—the same elegant slant he used for important documents and personal notes. The same words he'd written in anniversary cards for years. Words I'd believed were meant only for me.
I thanked the delivery man and closed the door, placing the roses on the coffee table just as Reece emerged from the bedroom, his hair tousled from sleep.
"Happy anniversary morning, beautiful," he murmured, wrapping his arms around me from behind. "I see my surprise arrived."
"They're stunning," I managed, wondering how many bouquets he'd ordered. Two? Or just one to be shared between appointments?
After breakfast, Reece kissed me goodbye with promises of meeting for lunch. "I have some business calls first," he explained. "The Jakarta situation."
I nodded, the lie settling between us like a physical presence. As soon as he left, I changed into a casual sundress and sunglasses—my impromptu disguise for following my own husband.
I kept a careful distance as Reece made his way to the ship's most exclusive area—the rooftop garden restaurant that was only accessible to certain suite guests. From behind a large decorative planter, I watched as he secured a secluded table with an ocean view, checking his watch repeatedly.
Twenty minutes later, Savannah arrived, radiant in a flowing white dress that caught the breeze. Reece stood to greet her, his face transformed with the same look of adoration he'd given me at breakfast. And in his hands—another bouquet of identical white roses.
My stomach lurched as he presented them to her with a flourish. Even from my hidden position, I could see the small card nestled among the blooms, the same cream-colored stationery with gold edging that had accompanied my own flowers.
Savannah's face lit up as she read the card, then looked up at Reece with tears in her eyes. "They're beautiful," she said, loud enough for me to hear. "Just like you promised."
"Only the best for my only love," Reece replied, using the exact phrase from my card.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood. My only love. My heart's true companion. The words he'd written to both of us, probably within minutes of each other, as if they were items on a checklist rather than declarations of unique devotion.
They settled at the table, heads close together, fingers intertwined on the pristine tablecloth. Reece leaned forward, whispering something that made Savannah laugh—that intimate, conspiratorial laugh of lovers sharing secrets.
"I've arranged everything for tonight," I heard him say as a server poured champagne. "Private dining room, sunset view, the special menu we talked about."
My anniversary dinner. The celebration he'd been planning for months, the one he'd described as "just for us" with a menu crafted to recreate our wedding reception meal. The evening he'd promised would be a once-in-a-lifetime experience to mark our decade together.
He was giving her my anniversary. My roses. My ring. My husband. My life.
I backed away from my hiding spot, desperate for air that didn't carry the scent of betrayal. This wasn't just infidelity—this was methodical duplication, a systematic recreation of our marriage with another woman playing my role.
I needed proof. I needed to see exactly how far this deception went.
