Sunny came downstairs rubbing his eyes.
Interrupted mid-review, Joe didn't bother looking at the rest. He signed quickly.
“How come you're awake?”
Sunny threw himself into Joe's arms, little hands looping around his neck, and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Daddy, I didn't tell Mommy one single thing about you taking me to the hospital to see Aunt Lillian today.”
“Next time you go see Aunt Lillian, you have to take me again!”
Joe shot me a guilty glance, and only when he saw that my expression hadn't changed did he reach up and give Sunny's nose a gentle tap.
“Sure, buddy. Daddy promises.”
Sunny giggled and buried his face against Joe's chest.
There was a time when a scene like this would have made me smile, when I'd think how wonderful it was that father and son were so close, maybe even feel a twinge of envy that Joe could be so busy yet still win Sunny's adoration.
Now, watching that small head nestled against Joe's chest, all I felt was a dull blade sawing back and forth across my heart.
Five years old, and he'd already learned to cover for his father.
I stood up and turned the family portrait on the side table facedown.
“It's late. I'm going to bed.”
As I passed Joe, that cloying perfume invaded my senses again. I quickened my pace, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible.
The next morning, Joe was still home for breakfast for once.
He glanced at the light makeup I was wearing and looked mildly surprised.
“What's the occasion?”
“You mentioned it a few days ago. There's an auction today you need me at.”
Even though I didn't want to go, a promise was a promise.
Besides, it wouldn't matter much longer. Six more days, and I'd be free.
Joe grunted in acknowledgment and put a piece of bacon on my plate.
I didn't touch it.
Seven years of marriage, and Joe still didn't remember I was allergic to pork.
Sunny chewed on his eggs and mumbled through a full mouth, “Mommy looks so pretty today.”
I glanced at him but didn't respond.
Sunny pouted, unhappy with my cold reaction, but I didn't coax him the way I used to.
Joe didn't notice the tension between Sunny and me. He was staring at his phone, a faint, absent smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I didn't need to guess who he was texting.
The only person who could make him look that relaxed was Lillian Fox.
At three that afternoon, I walked into the auction house on Joe's arm.
Even with the divorce quietly underway behind the scenes, I kept a polished smile in place.
Several people came over to make small talk.
Joe fielded every greeting with effortless charm, pausing now and then to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, the picture of a devoted husband.
Once upon a time, those public displays of affection would have set my pulse racing.
Now I just thought he was one hell of an actor.
The auction dragged on, unremarkable, until lot number seventeen appeared and my breath caught.
It was my mother's bracelet.
Years ago, when Joe was scraping together funds for his startup, I'd sold it.
When Joe found out, his eyes had gone red, and he'd promised me, “Sarah, once I make it, I'll buy it back for you. I swear.”
I raised my paddle without hesitation：“Two million.”
Joe glanced at me, brow creasing. “Since when do you like such an old-fashioned bracelet?”
He didn't even recognize it. My mother's last keepsake, and he had no idea.
I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and said nothing.
But a second later, another paddle went up.
“Three million.”
It was Bidder No. 8, seated diagonally across from us.
I looked over instinctively. A young woman in a face mask and cap.
