Chapter 2

TWO

" W ell, Fallon, I only have one more question, if that's okay?" Louise, the interviewer, asks kindly. I hate interviews, but they are a necessity. I'm still tired from a restless night, and when I got up, Gerald, my husband, had already been gone. I wandered my huge, empty house, wondering when our marriage had become this cold.

Or maybe it always was.

Maybe I just didn't notice it, detached from my own reality like I always seem to be.

Apart from him , a little voice whispers.

I hate that it's right. Last night, Kage brought my detachment to a screeching halt and forced me to feel with just a flirty conversation. I don't know how or why, but it left me shaken and on edge. It doesn't bode well for the interview, and I know I've been stiffer than I should be. Maybe that's why I don't see the daggers coming until it's too late.

Usually, I'm two steps ahead.

Not today.

Today, they win.

"We were recently sent these pictures, and I thought we should ask you since we' re worried."

I glance behind her to the screen they use, and my smile freezes on my face as I stare. My heart crumbles in my chest, and my entire world falls to pieces around me. I feel like I sink into the floor, but I'm still sitting here stiffly. Cameras and lights are aimed at me, and I start to sweat, my body overheating even as goose bumps rise on my flesh.

"Is everything okay in your marriage? Your husband's infidelity will be all over the news today, and I know this must be a very hard time for you both, but your fans are worried about you."

Infidelity.

The word echoes in my head as I stare at the pictures displayed there to cause as much damage as possible. They are pictures I have never seen before. There, with a bright smile on his face, brighter than he's ever given me, is my husband. A woman is locked in his embrace, and her lipstick is smeared across his face. There's one of him with his head thrown back, and another of him lifting her over his shoulder as they go into a hotel together. The last is the worst, and I can't breathe as I stare at it.

It's from a long-angled lens, and it was taken through an open window.

He's on his back, the sheet pooled around him as his back arches as the same woman, now naked, rides his cock. The date is from last week.

It was the date of our anniversary, when he was late to the dinner I had painstakingly planned since it felt like I should. He was late.

He was late because he was fucking her. I don't know which annoys me more. The fact that he dared to be late or that he dared to fuck someone else like he doesn't have the fucking catch of all catches at home. I fucking cooked for him. I never do that, I hate cooking, yet my thoughts come back to one solid musing.

My husband is cheating on me.

Maybe he has been for a while.

He cheated, and I'm left staring as they wait for my reaction.

They will use it to sell their show and their papers, all while my world splinters around me. I created the perfect life as a fuck you to my past, and now it's crumbling. The safety and sanctuary I created is gone.

Stolen.

"Fallon, are you okay?" The fake concern is cloying in her tone, and I blink, bringing her back into focus. Her eyes are narrowed. They want me to break. They want to plaster it across TV, hysterical Fallon who cries after finding her husband is cheating on her with a younger, hotter woman.

They want my anger and pain.

They won't get it.

I've spent years burying my feelings, repressing them after what I've been through. I've never given into the pain, and I spent years being camera trained by my father. The punishments if I failed were a lot worse than this now.

I don't crack, not even a little, but I know I will eventually, like a ticking time bomb.

I feel it building like a wave behind a dam, ready to splash over.

I need to get out of there now. The panic in that thought is what gets me to unhinge my jaw and speak, even when it feels like I've swallowed my tongue.

"This interview is over. Thank you for having me, Louise." I can scarcely breathe as I stand. I can't even lift my hand to wave at the fans, and in the complete, deafening silence of the studio, I calmly walk off stage when all I feel is pure agony.

Shock.

Pain.

It's more than I've felt in years, and the emotions are so strong they stagger me. I can't breathe in enough air or see as I hurry to my car, and once inside, I slam the partition closed and let the tears fall.

My hands hit the seats as I sob, the barrier silencing them so the world will never know. I scream and cry as the tears slide down my cheeks.

He cheated and destroyed our marriage. More than that, he destroyed everything I worked for, leaving me ambushed and weak, which I hate .

Maybe I didn't love Gerald, but I cry for what I lost, for the love we could have had, the friendship, the companionship, the buffer, and everything it means.

I am unlovable.

I will never be enough, just like my father said.

I know the paparazzi will be waiting for me at home, so I swallow down my pain. I bury it so deep they will never find it. I clean up my face, smooth my hair back into place, and tug on my dress until I'm perfectly put together.

I appear cold and aloof, even though I'm falling apart on the inside.

I get out of the car, waving at the cameras, and head into my house.

He cheated on me? Fine.

I don't need him. I don't need anyone.

He's just another person in a long list of those who let me down.

I was a fool, but I won't be again.

I didn't break down for the cameras, but inside my house, I did.

His clothes lie shredded around me. All the expensive suits and designer clothes I meticulously bought and viciously tore apart. The bottle of wine is half empty as I take a deep drink from the bottle.

He will be back soon, and he will find his suitcase outside, along with divorce papers. I want this over and done with quickly. He knew what he was doing, knew what would happen. He wanted out, and he got it. He will no longer have my money and house to fall back on. Gerald can face the wolves alone. He destroyed everything we had, and now I'm doing the same.

We were partners. Maybe there wasn't love and passion like he wanted, but we always agreed on being a united front. Not anymore.

I don't even give him the benefit of a conversation because he doesn't deserve it. Nothing he could say can change what he did, and I can never forgive him for sullying our marriage and the trust he won from me when no one else ever could .

I look at the TV, seeing the name they are calling me after my stony exit from the interview.

Ice queen.

I like it.

Cold and impenetrable.

No one will ever hurt me again if I am ice.

I give them nothing—not a post or an interview. My husband gets what he came into this marriage with and nothing else. The cars, the houses, and the money are all mine, and he can't have them. He won't take them from me, and I made sure of that with a prenup.

Without me, he's nothing, and he knows it.

I ignore my phone and the doorbell—the staff was instructed not to answer. The locks have already been changed. He worked quickly, but I was quicker. I swept every inch of him from my life as swiftly as he entered it. I don't need a reminder of another person who hurt me, and when I stand and head downstairs, I instruct the staff to clean up the remains of his clothes.

It's done. It's over.

I wander the house aimlessly, needing to keep moving until I see the flower lying on the kitchen counter. For some reason, I'm drawn to it, picking up the blue and pink dahlia before opening the black card alongside it.

For every time we have met, I will send you one as a reminder that I am not going anywhere. I told you he didn't deserve you. Give them nothing, baby. I'll be waiting for you.

Your Kage

There's a number under that. I scoff, crumpling the card even as I pick up the flower once more.

I can't bring myself to throw it out for some reason.