Back home, I opened the social media account Mia had sent me. Winifred Taylor's account.
It was filled with snapshots of her daily life.
Two months ago, she'd posted:
My amazing boss brought me my favorite boba tea. So warm and thoughtful!
In the photo, she was holding up her half-finished boba tea to Asher's lips, and he was smiling, leaning in to drink from the straw.
Asher hated anything sweet. He'd never once gone with me for dessert.
Yet here he was, sipping Winifred's boba tea like it was the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't that he didn't have it in him. He just didn't have it in him for me.
I laughed bitterly and kept scrolling.
One month ago, she'd posted:
He made me a homemade meal with his own hands. The best man in the whole world!
Elegant sushi rolls, neatly sliced fruit, imported wagyu beef, all arranged with care.
My fingertips went cold.
Those were the homemade meals I'd prepared for Asher. He always had stomach problems, and I worried about his health, so I'd taught myself to cook. Every single day I came up with something new for him.
I never imagined it all ended up in someone else's stomach.
Further down, Winifred was flashing a peace sign at the camera, her smile radiant.
Messed up a project today and I was so scared, but he took me here to cheer me up. Said I'll always be the best!
I recognized the place in the photo instantly. The Summit Restaurant.
That was where Asher and I had fallen in love.
Years ago, I'd run away after a fight with my family and secretly taken a waitressing job there. A drunk customer started groping me.
Asher had charged in and knocked the man to the ground. When the guy grabbed a bottle and swung it down at me, Asher pulled me into his arms and took the blow full on. Blood everywhere.
Back then he had no money, no connections, nothing but reckless courage and the instinct to shield me with everything he had.
Now he was bringing another woman to that same place, right through the front door.
It felt like a knife dragging open my chest. I couldn't breathe.
I kept scrolling until I reached her last post, from just yesterday.
Can't wait for the bidding conference the day after tomorrow. The Southgate project is his debut gift to me!
Every drop of warmth drained from my body. My breath stopped.
The Southgate project was a cornerstone venture my father had poured his heart into before he passed. It was supposed to be his gift to me for my twenty-eighth birthday.
And Asher was going to hand it over to his little secretary.
The front door clicked open.
Asher was home.
He walked straight to me, wrapped both arms around me, and rested his chin on the top of my head. His voice was soft and tender.
"Hey, babe. I missed you."
He still smelled like Winifred's cloying gardenia perfume.
I stood rigid in his arms, swallowing the nausea.
He didn't notice a thing. He took my hand and swung it lightly.
"There's an executive gathering at the office tonight. Come meet everyone. You should start dropping by the company more often, keep me company."
I looked at the flawless tenderness in his eyes and felt nothing but the absurdity of it.
Before I could refuse, he'd already pulled me out the door.
The banquet hall glittered with light. The moment Asher walked in holding my hand, every eye in the room turned to us.
A second later, Winifred appeared in a white cocktail dress, eyes rimmed red, walking quickly toward me. In front of everyone, she dipped into a small bow.
"Mrs. Sanchez, I'm so sorry. Last time I was thoughtless and rode in Mr. Sanchez's car. It won't happen again. Please don't be angry with me."
She made herself as small as possible, the picture of a girl who'd been wronged yet was graciously taking the blame. Sympathetic glances from the crowd landed on her immediately.
But my gaze drifted downward, and the blood in my veins turned to ice.
Around her neck hung a necklace.
The pendant was a tiny crescent moon, and on the inside was engraved a single letter: P.
It was the only thing my parents had left me before the car accident that killed them both. The Pruitt family heirloom necklace.
The chain had broken a while back, and Asher had found the best jeweler in the city. He promised he'd have it restored to perfect condition.
That repair had stretched on for the better part of a year. I'd assumed it was the complexity of the craftsmanship, the jeweler's packed schedule.
I never imagined that right now, at this very moment, it would be hanging around Winifred Taylor's neck, catching the light like a taunt.
Asher hadn't just cheated. He'd taken the thing I treasured most, the thing that meant everything to me, and given it to his mistress.
My stomach lurched violently, and a wave of cold so deep it burned rolled through me. I locked every muscle in place, fighting with everything I had not to come apart right there.
