Chapter 1

OLIVIA'S POV

The restaurant was brimming with conversation and the occasional clink of glasses. Soft jazz music played in the background, adding a classy outlook to the already sophisticated environment. I sat across from my elder brother, Ethan, who had just finished his third glass of wine and was now swirling the remnants around the glass.

“It’s been years, Olivia,” Ethan began, his tone laced with that familiar sarcasm he seemed to carry around.

“Years?” I stared at him and chuckled. “It’s not even been two months!”

“But I’ve missed my baby sis,” He whined on.

“And I’ve missed you too,” I admitted, a huge smile forming across my lips.

Ethan called a waiter who was passing and ordered another bottle of wine.

“So…Lucas?” He stared at me. “How is he doing?”

I sighed, setting my fork down on my half-eaten plate of pasta. My marriage with Lucas had been a bit shaky in recent weeks but I was not bothered. Lucas loved me but he had been very busy with business meetings recently.

“He’s fine,” I shrugged. “Making me happy as usual.”

Ethan scoffed and I chuckled.

“I hear he’s been spending a lot of time at the office lately,” Ethan pressed on.

“Lucas is working hard,” I grunted, refusing to let his words affect me. “He’s driven. You’ve met him—you know how much he loves me.”

“Love doesn’t pay the bills,” Ethan shot back, his eyes narrowing. “And I don’t believe for one second he loves you as much as he loves what you’ve done for him. You’re too good for him, Liv.”

“Spare me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Not everything is about money, Ethan.”

Ethan smirked. His skepticism was evident. “Not everything, no. But don’t pretend it doesn’t matter. You’re a Richards, for crying out loud. We’re bloody rich but here you are, hiding behind mother’s maiden name ‘Smith’ and struggling like some… nobody.”

I flinched at his words but forced myself to stay calm.

“I’m not hiding,” I muttered. “I chose to be with Lucas because I believe in him. I don’t need the family fortune or the name to define me.”

Ethan leaned back in his chair, letting out a low chuckle. “You’re unbelievable. Always trying to be noble.” He gestured around the restaurant. “Meanwhile, he’s probably at work, smiling with all the ladies in there.’”

“You’re impossible,” I grunted. “Lucas is thoughtful and romantic—something you wouldn’t understand.”

“Romantic?” Ethan scoffed. “What’s the most romantic thing he’s done for you?”

I opened my mouth to defend him, but my phone buzzed on the table. I glanced at the screen, and a smile immediately spread across my face.

“What?” Ethan asked, his eyes darting over to my phone.

I turned the phone toward him, showing him the text:

Romantic dinner at home tonight. Can’t wait to see you. Love you.

“See?” I said triumphantly. “Lucas isn’t what you think. He plans things like this all the time.”

Ethan rolled his eyes.

“A text message. Wow, that’s very impressive.”

I frowned and rose up from the table, grabbing my purse.

 “You can mock all you want, but I’m going home to my husband. Enjoy your lonely steak dinner.”

“You’re seriously leaving?” he asked, looking genuinely disappointed. “I haven’t seen you in months, Liv. Stay a little longer.”

“I will next time, I promise,” I muttered. “But tonight is important.”

Ethan sighed, and rose to his feet as well. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when this perfect little dream of yours comes crashing down.”

“It won’t,” I said. “Goodbye, Ethan.”

The drive home was quiet, the city lights blurring as I navigated the familiar streets. Lucas’s text had filled me with excitement, and I couldn’t wait to see what he’d planned. It wasn’t often he went out of his way to do something romantic, and I appreciated the gesture more than I could put into words.

When I pulled into the driveway of our modest house, the lights inside were dim. A smile tugged at my lips as I imagined candles flickering on the dining table, the soft scent of flowers filling the air, maybe even some music playing in the background.

But as I stepped inside, the house was eerily silent. There were no candles, no flowers, no music. Instead, the first thing I noticed was a jacket tossed carelessly over the back of the couch—a woman’s jacket.

I frowned, setting my purse down on the entryway table.

 “Lucas?” I called out, my voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

There was no response.

I stepped further into the house, and it was then that  I noticed the trail of clothes scattered across the floor. A blouse, a pair of heels, and then… a black lace bra.

My stomach tightened, an overwhelming sense of dread creeping over me.

 No. This couldn’t be what it looked like. There had to be an explanation.

I followed the trail up the stairs, my heart pounding louder with every step. The closer I got to our bedroom, the more I heard—a faint giggle, a soft murmur of voices. My breath caught in my throat as I reached the door.

My hands trembled as I pushed it open.

The sight before me was like a slap in the face. Lucas was in our bed, his shirt half undone, his hair tousled. Next to him was a blonde woman, her body wrapped in the sheets I had picked out with so much care.

“Olivia,” Lucas said, his tone disturbingly casual, as if my arrival was nothing more than an inconvenience.

The woman turned to me, her lips curling into a smug smile before she nestled closer to him.

I froze, as the sight of his betrayal crashed down on me like a wave. My voice caught in my throat as I tried to form words, to make sense of the scene before me. But there was nothing to say. No explanation. No justification.

And in that moment, my world shattered.